The Best Laid Plans

Of course they took a plane.

It had been quite a long time since Mira had spent any significant time with Robin Ivanov but she remembered the drill well enough. Passports were dug out of drawers, bags were packed, and comfortable clothes were worn in preparation for the long trip ahead. Even with floos and portkeys, international travel could be a bit of a hassle but it took a nice muggle-style vacation for Mira to remember just how easy they had it.

All in all the Atlantic crossing proved itself surprisingly pleasant and gave the two old companions time to truly catch up over terrible in-flight movies and champagne out of plastic cups. Robin filled Mira in on Avery and the baby, the passing of Mathias Bishop, and his plans revolving around the Quidditch World Cup. On her end, Mira found she had very little new to share beyond having bought a new set of curtains for the summer (they really lightened up the room). Sitting there in Business Class it was easy to reflect on how badly she needed this little break. An escape from London, from England, from Europe even, would do her good. Even when Robin was an annoying little brat he made good company and Mira was quietly grateful to have a friendly face by her side.

She had been promised the sights of New York, a few parties, and several new acquaintances for tagging along on Robin's officially-buisness trip.

There was another reason too. Not that they had ever spelled it out officially. That would have felt a bit too reminiscent of the way their parents did things. No, it was more of a suggestion. A not so subtle suggestion.

Mira knew she should have been offended. She was in her prime - young, beautiful, confident, desirable - but even still she had felt a wave of relief wash over her when Robin had first made a comment. It had become very clear over the last year that there were two things Mira Anderson was quite terrible at: being alone and being poor. If things went smoothly, Robin was offering her a solution to both and who would she be to turn her head up at such a proposition? She might have been vain but she certainly wasn't stupid.

Robin reached across the arm rest to tap his glass against hers, a muffled, distinctly plastic clink resulting.

"To New York"

"New York," she echoed, the start of a smile playing at her ruby-red lips.

Mira had finished two more small glasses by the time the wheels hit the tarmac, Robin three. They were able to retrieve their luggage quickly from the carousal and load everything into a taxi without too much trouble. Robin leaned forward and gave the address of his family's apartment in the city while Mira leaned back to check her phone for messages. Nothing. Mira crossed her legs and watched the chaos of JFK fall behind her as they sped into the city.

Some part of Benjamin Norton still felt too young to be at these functions on his own. Fortunately, it seemed most of the American elite had all conceived at the same time, so he was not alone in the dilemma, and the parties were getting younger and younger. In fact, this particular party had been thrown by the eldest of the  younger generation. Sutton's Astor's elder brother, Damen, was approaching thirty but his wife of three years had just announced that she was not only pregnant, but had just purchased an art gallery. With Damen's parents already vacationing in the Caribbean, it was up to the younger couple to celebrate.

And Damen Astor had pulled out all of the stops.

Women dressed in tight-fitting paneled dresses walked throughout the party, sequins glimmering. They carried both champagne flutes and jello shots. The panels of the dresses flickered with the images of some of the different exhibits. The lights were slightly dimmed but they got even more dim as they approached a thin hallway. The hallway was lit only with black lights, and it them opened up to a night club type area. The women here carried harder alcohol, and music thumped loudly. The party very much looked like Old Money and New Money on either side, separated by a strange tunnel of music and light.

Ben was so boooored. Despite the party's youth, it was still full of people pretending to be more interesting than they really were. What he wouldn't give for Elsie to appear at his elbow and begin her usual little tirade. "Benji. Did you see Rebekah? Did I not tell you that she would do her best to pop out as many kids as she could by the time she was twenty five? You dodged a bullet, really. Ugh, Carter. I know you guys get on but he gives me the creeps. Where's your boss? He's hot - so what? Fifteen years isn't even that bad."

But that wouldn't be happening. Since he had last seen Elsie, their relationship had taken an unfortunate turn and now he was just hoping that her holiday would help her clear her head so he could get his sister back.

Fortunately, he had the promise of company in the form of Robin and a lady friend. Ben would have been lying horribly if he said his parent's constant reminder that he needed to marry wasn't starting to wear him down... and make some sense. A married man had to put no effort into wooing, had lots of excuses to get out of unwanted business, and got more tax breaks. He had casually mentioned giving in to this demand to the young Ivanov and Robin had come back with a potential solution.

Ben headed back into the art gallery from the nightclub, donning his coat as the air in the gallery was much more frigid than in the club portion. He hooked a flute of champagne and began to stroll, awaiting his company for the night.

The gallery was located in a part of town that Mira was quite unfamiliar with. The scene stunk of New Money, built from tall panes of glass, sparkling tile, and bright lights. The pair of foreigners entered the party when it was in full swing and seamlessly let themselves be absorbed into the web of collared shirts, short dresses, and drink trays. Mira felt the touch of Robin's hand to her back as he guided her towards the nearest bar. Blonde curls fell gracefully as she glanced over her shoulder, grabbing snapshots of faces from the crowd. Her eyes were tugged from person to person, noting the dresses, shoes, and hair-dos around her. 

Mira felt ever-so-slightly out of place in a low-backed red dress among girls who looked like they were ready for the club. She always found herself especially uncertain when packing for America - the weight of her suitcase was evidence of that. The differences between New York and London were always startling and never more noticeable than when looking at the highest of society. New York felt freer without the stifling traditions of home. Or maybe it was just freer without the parents that enforced them. No one in the room looked over thirty and everyone was certainly acting their age. 

Mira returned her gaze to Robin just in time to see him receiving a shot of some colored substance from the bartender. "Want one?" he asked over the music. Shaking her head, Mira ordered a glass of champagne as Robin threw his drink back. 

Taking the delicate flute in hand, Mira turned to face into the room. "Pace yourself," she warned her travel companion. The subtext was clear - I might need you.

Robin simply smirked, bouncing away from the bar and grabbing a glass of something alcohol-based from the first tray he passed. Mira clicked her tongue lightly. The Russian boy might not remember the Rookwood party of '23 but Mira recalled it all too clearly and had no desire to repeat the evening. Well, more of a weekend by the time it was all said and done.

The pair began to circle and chat. There were a surprising number of familiar faces - children of their parents business partners, friends of friends, and those who they had met at similar parties before. As a tandem, the evening was comfortable. Good conversation was all the more enjoyable while bad conversation was easier to escape. They had been settling in to the social scene for just long enough now for Mira to start to feel at ease, her champagne glass half empty, the room itself bubblier than ever.

They had just finished saying hello to a young redheaded girl that Mira vaguely remembered from some party-or-other when she felt a breath of warm air by her ear as Robin spoke.

"On your eleven."

Mira swiveled subtly, following Robin's eyes to a young man moving leisurely through the gallery. She turned back to Robin, giving him a quizzical look that clearly said 'is this who I think it is?' but he was no longer paying attention to her as he caught the eye of Benjamin Norton and gave a nod of acknowledgement.

Mira raised her glass and took a large swig of champagne. The sweet bubbles bounced down her throat, leaving her head deceptively clear and a polite smile on her face. Without a word the Europeans weaved their way in and out of partygoers until they stood before Ben.

"Norton!" Robin greeted with the cheer of someone who had four glasses of champagne before arriving. "It's been too too long." It had been about a week. "How are you? How's the family? You're looking great, wow." Mira continued to smile politely but her eyes now held the glimpse of an 'I-told-you-so'.

"Oh! I don't think you two have met before. Ben, Mira. Mira, Ben."

Mira extended a hand. "Thank you so much for suggesting we stop by. We're having quite a lovely time." Some of us more than others.

Ben was not much for self reflection, as he found it often cultivated a vapid disposition that he was not fond of. He had enough going for him that he did not want to compromise it by becoming an overly pompous clone of his parents' generation. Ben, like his peers, was rich, over-educated, and unconditionally supported by his parents. But Ben had the advantage of being handsome, sincerely intelligent, and naturally careless. So he could stroll through an art gallery, look good doing it, make educated comments on the pieces of work, and look absolutely effortless while doing so.

He was a very fortunate man.

But as soon as he got proud and vain, all of that went out the window. The thing that had always been so intriguing about Ben was how little he thought of his natural assets. While his sister used all of her little perks for her benefit, he let the benefits roll in as they came, never forcing anything. His charm was natural, and he feared forcing it would make all of the ease in his life disappear.

So it was with a completely unaffected air that he turned at the call of his name. His eyes fell on Robin Ivanov, a man who had managed to make overconfidence a charm of his own. And next to him was a classy-dressed woman, who had a sort of vintage beauty. There was something different about her, in comparison to the new-money women in their short dresses and flashy haircuts. She had a youthful air, of course, but there was something much more serious about her.

Interesting.

Ben smiled at Robin, helping the other man into a handshake. "I'm so glad you found the bar, Ivanov, I was hoping for something to derail Astor's plan for the perfect party - knew I could count on you." His deep American accent rumbled through the clinking noises now filling the gallery. He turned to the woman, Mira. Somehow, a handshake didn't seem right, but he hated that pretentious kiss-of-the-hand bit. So her softly took her hand, bringing his other hand up to cover hers, running a thumb across her palm, smiling at her. "It's wonderful to meet you."

They both knew why they were here.

Ben smiled at Robin. "Dear friend, would like us to deposit you at the bar?"

She supposed he was handsome enough. Only a few inches taller than her, his dress impeccably selected for the crowd, Benjamin Norton stood with a noticeable ease and comfort in his own skin. 

Mira couldn't stand a self-conscious man. 

He took her hand and Mira's expectations for a kiss were proved wrong as his thumb trailed across her palm. Interesting. 

"The pleasure's all mine." she replied lightly, her English accent suddenly a noticeable feature. 

The attention of both parties was drawn back to Robin as he shrugged. "I'm good. You kids have fun." he replied, slapping Ben not-so-lightly on the shoulder before sauntering off towards the louder music in the club portion of the building. 

As soon as the man retreated, Mira turned to face her new partner head-on. At this moment she felt there was one thing she could really say - "I'm so sorry. I guess I hadn't really been keeping track." 

If Ivanov had done nothing else for her, at least he was a conversation piece. 

Robin excused himself just as suddenly as he had inserted himself back into Ben's presence, but Ben supposed that had less to do with approval or disapproval of his intentions towards Ms Anderson, and more to do with the tell-tale wobble in the man's step. Ben watched with amusement as Ivanov left, certain that the man was going to get himself in trouble.

Mira was apologizing for him, and Ben found a smile had found his lips, and laughter had boiled up from his stomach and found its way past the guard of his lips. "No, no, let's leave him be. Poor fellow's been domesticated. He needs an release every now and then. And I'm not going to be the fool to step between him and that release."

Again, Ben was not stupid. He was very aware of the spin he had just put upon marriage, and he had no intentions to quickly amend his statement and sing praises for domestication. Honestly, he wanted to know where this woman stood on the issue. It was pretty obvious that they were both looking for a long-haul commitment, shipped to their door as soon as possible. But he really needed to check out what he was signing up for.

And what better way then to mock the service being offered?