It is, all things considered, a very nice drawing room. Portraits adorn the walls and the heavy drapes are open to let starlight from the moonless night through. There's a table far too small for the large room with a pot of tea, a set of tea cups and an arrangement of cookies and fruit. Two oaken doors are firmly closed to one side, and to the other a single door is slightly ajar, the sound of sobbing coming from past it. Every once in a while it's possible to hear a page being turned in the other room as well. The drawing room on its own is silent, save for the ticking of a grandfather clock and then, with no prelude, an exclamation.
Lucette moves on as well, to someone who she thought might be interested in shipping but turns out to just think piracy sounds like it would be fun.
Between dances Haru needs to duck out to (what passes in the eighteenth century for) the bathroom, where he does intend to pee but mostly needs to check up on a wardrobe malfunction he can't be seen acting this confused about; something's come untied.
Maybe they can all be fucking grownups about having to pee even though some of them are also abominable.
Mr. Metcalfe eyes Haru's outfit before whispering to the person next to him in line that it looks like Haru has evidently found someone to dress him. Going by the tone of his voice this is an insult.
Maybe a sufficient fraction of us can be fucking grownups about this. Haru pretends he didn't hear a thing. Maybe a real baseline human wouldn't've.
Before any more snide remarks can be made there's a shriek from the bathroom, followed by the sound of glass breaking, and finally by most of the wooden door and part of the brick wall warping and molding itself into centuar-like figure with an oddly canine face made from porcelain and splotches of human flesh on it's torso among the brick and wood.
It shrieks in a tortured voice, not dissimilar from the previous shriek except far less human. A psychic attack of some sort accompanies the shriek.
Well, the psychic attack bounces off of him immediately and - he runs away, back toward the ballroom.
"Did you notice whether the demon manifested itself or entered from outside the building?'
"It came out from the bathroom, I think de-novo, and picked up materials around it - whoever was in there and some of the wall and door - it might have been there before and invisible or small enough to hide without the materials, or might have appeared there just now, I don't know."
"In all likelihood it manifested, I expect. A demon left to grow powerful enough to bear up under the sight of a few people is one thing, but a wild demon in London would be something else entirely."
Nod. "- is that the only reason you aren't going to help or is there sexism even about confronting loose demons."
"There is sexism - I might still risk it if there were sufficient danger to innocents. However I believe the Brightlord has already evacuated those who were not involved in the fight."
"A noble who earned sufficient distinction in campaigns that his alias was made official. He's also the most decent living individual with this distinction, according to me. He would have left silver light in his wake?"