Jay Mayhem
In fact, while for them this was just ordinary business, she doubted she could count such suites.
Hers was apartment living and starship drifting, not luxury pads and not ballrooms like this one.
She didn’t fit in, or at least her purse didn’t. Rather, its contents of credits didn’t and then some.
The purse itself, well, was leather and it was purple which went well with the illuminated aesthetics.
Purple lighting, shades of violet from carpet to ceiling. Purple happened to be her favorite color.
That alone might have sold her to this party if she could afford to be here without the invitation.
She needed it though, sent one by the host—a philanthropist who had a much fatter purse.
So, there Jay was, mingling in a sea of the rich and the intelligent, the corporate and scientific.
The latter was her profession, being a practitioner of the medical arts, and in that way she fit in.
Conversation was all around her, dark suits and bright dresses, glasses of champagne or wine.
Expensive vintages for certain. She had her own glass in hand—white wine on the sweeter side.
Keep your bubbles. That was the problem with champagne. Too much trouble. She licked her lips.
Eyes roved the ocean of guests, swept the distance, walls on the horizon, over there the balcony.
The outside air was cool and crisp so high up in the city, yet she kept to her corner with her drink.
Sure, there were some other doctors here like her, but this was awkward, so she kept her distance.
A couple passed before her hand in hand. That a dress or drape? A curtain, for goodness’ sake.
Some big burgundy gown that dragged across the floor. Jay’s own dress was a tad less flashy.
Complemented her purse, at least, and the interior, and paired with her lavender lipstick. Classy.
The music, that was. She had half expected some violin, not a mandolin, and a live band played.
A woman sang on a stage at the back, where some guests watched and listened at the tables.
Beautiful. Her appearance as much as her voice. Green gown, emerald earrings, elegant sound.
She didn’t sing in Basic, her lyrics like liquid, singing about the galaxy, of reality as much as fables.
Dreams and living in them. I guess maybe that's my entire life. She sighed, eyes shifting to the crowd.
“Excuse me.” Jay looked to the right, spotted some guy and cocked her brow.
“Heyo.” If that was the right greeting then it made the well tailored man blink.
“Are you Dr. Jayrenel Metrum?” His smile seemed sincere. But that tie is loud.
A bowtie, to be precise, silky gold between shiny black lapels. He had no drink.
“Yep. In the flesh… Pun intended.” She sipped.
He blinked, countenance like I-don’t-get-it.
“Cuz I’m a doctor… Flesh… Stitches...eh...”
“...”
“Ahem. You can just call me Jay.”
“Pleasure to meet you, madam”
Madam, is it? “You too, uh..?”
“I am Rosinard Telangrine.”
Rosinard Tangerine. Got it.
“Happen to have a minute?”
“..?”
“To discuss your discovery, that is.”
Jay shrugged. "It's why I'm here, isn't it?"
Hilal Vizsla
