"Why are they holding a formal dinner in December."

She paused briefly, her eyes unreadable.

His comment had triggered something.

Her lips contrasted just slightly with her impassive expression for a brief moment.

Yes, something was bothering her.

"Are you nervous?"

The question was just that, a true question, but a hint of concern laced itself in his tone. He loosened his business/dinner suit considerably.

He did hate ties.

He looked around.

And he hated this limo too.

She stared at him, the moment displacement in her demeanor gone.

He was dressed with refinement, something she had been going for. His hair had been chopped, literally, and was giving a slight spikeness. The color had been changed, permanently, to chocolate locks. His olive skin, his olive green eyes, the width of his shoulders, his shaven face, it all matched. He now looked young, alive, oblivious to the outside world.

A smirk played lightly in her eyes.

Was he carefree, perhaps?

"Amy?"

She didn't bring her stare from the floor of the vehicle, but she did tune him in.

"I miss it."

Her voice was a whisper.

"What?"

He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, and he asked for assurance sake, for he knew she'd never repeat it.

She stared at her French manicured nails, on the hands that were hers. She squeezed them into fists slightly. Her sense of touch felt the soft threads of the crisp, crinkled fabric of the long, slimming peasant design that she had gotten long ago.

Her eyes cast over once again.

"Ya know."

Her attention, and her head, were both immediately brought up to meet him face to face.

"Sometimes, I wonder what goes on through your head."

She gave her glossed lips a soft lick, the seriousness throwing her off just the slightest.

Because all seriousness had been directed at her.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

The vehicle came to a rather rough jerk in front of the large skyscraper.

With her own swiftness and grace she was by her partner's side and tightening his tie.

He made a face.

The driver opened the door, and he was quick to leave. Not liking the ride any.

But not forgetting his role, his hand appeared inside the limo, and she took it without hesitation.

The actress in her almost took over immediately, offering her little time to fell the slightest disappointment in herself.

She was to play the bubbly fiancé of a wealthy man.

But, it was just another face.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

They walked quietly through the people that gathered in the ballroom. The elegance was mixed with modern technology. A large, crystalline chandelier hung from the tall ceiling. Holograms of dancers glided in the air above them. The cool breeze of the fans that kept the ice sculptures cold hit both of their bare faces. But it wasn't unwelcome. Businessmen laughed at the bar, their lithe dates hanging on their arms with a soft drink in their small hands.

"This looks hectic."

She didn't remove the happy looking smile from her face.

"You're only job is to keep them busy. Leave the rest to me."

He looked at her.

"Still, I think this isn't going to be easy."

Several eyes fell on them.

A soft beat filled the room; the voices of those talking could still be heard.

They were approached.

Mitchel went to work.

"'Ello."

She almost winced.

What was it with him and Australian accents?

"Yes, hello."

The man looked to be in about his late 30's. His hair was slightly spiked as well. Blonde roots faded into black and then gray. His skin looked of too much sun, and the creases showed his age.

Mitchel ended his over-talkative conversation. The ones that destroyed any suspicions of him and were replaced with irritation.

She had learned to tune him out.

"And just who is this lovely lady mind her."

She focused her eyes on him.

"Dria Darndoar."

The name rolled off her lips.

"Yes."

The man's eyes never left hers as he reached for her other hand, the one that wasn't in her partner's grasp. He kissed the knuckles.

"And just what relation do you be."

Unusual way of speaking.

"I'm his fiancé."

The interest in his eyes was completely removed.

He stood up erect.

"Well, let me introduce you to some of our other guests.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

She heard the loud and fake laughter before they even got there. The man was walking in front of them, and her partner's palms were sweating.

They approached the table. The man that seemed to be the focus of attention at the moment was the African who we stood nearest too. He looked in his 40's; the expensive business suit went well with him. Beside him, sat a young man in his 20's. Even from here I saw his build. His blue eyes sparkled just the slightest, then went back to a dull shine as his laughter died down. Chestnut brown hair, looking softly brushed fit with his slightly rounded face. On the other side of him, sat a young woman of about the same age. She wore a simple red dress, elegant but not with too much class. Her hair was cropped short, and her eyes had almost no shine to them at all. Her face let me know one thing; her heels were killing her.

"Ms. Darndoar and Mr. Darknor."

Darknor?

So that's what he named himself.

"I'd like to introduce you to Jefferson Smith, president of N'tek."

He directed his hand, and Mr. Smith stood up.

"Pleasure to meet you."

The African took her hand, and she continued to smile.

N'tek didn't register.

"Next to him, is his chief of security, Max Steel."

The blue-eyed, brown haired man stood up, nodding, and then sitting back down.

I ignored it, not worrying about rudeness. The look of his boss showed differently though.

"And next to Mr. Steel, is his second in command, simply known as, Kat."

She nodded too, only saying hello in a pleasant voice.

"On the other side of Mr. Smith, we have the Vice-President of N'tek. Mr. 'Berto Martinez."

He was short. Taller than her, but short. The Hispanic in him was evident; his skin was smooth and browned. Glasses perched on the ridge of his nose, his eyebrows slightly heavy. His dark hair was calm, his dark eyes noticeable. He looked too young.

He went on to name the others collecting around the table.

She didn't care.

Her eyes focused forward, beyond businessmen of the table.

She saw clearly as one man, looking similar to the man that'd approached them earlier, took a quick look around him then walked through the wall.

"Ms. Darndoar?"

She refocused her eyesight, and her mind quickly placed the voice's direction.

"Yes Mr. Steel?"

He stood up, looking toward her partner.

And exchange of some sort happened, and he moved from his table to her side.

"May I have this dance."

She blinked, surprise catching her.

"Um, yes."

He gently took her hand and guided her to the dance floor.

A soft piano solo filled the air, having seemed to rise in volume.

She tensed.

He moved his arm around her waist, his other one taking her hand. He led in a soft waltz.