Elegance and with majesty. That, was how you were expected to portray yourself tonight. Disregard your comfortability, and act as an oligarch. An aristocrat, for this mission depended upon you and your partner’s ineluctable success.

Stood a front the mirror your hands followed the outline of your body, smoothing down the fabric of your dress. Pointed fingertips trembled in what you foolishly convinced yourself to be anticipation.

You could not allow your nerves to get the best of you, not tonight. Even if you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders; you would act as Helios, and uphold the sun.

Fiddling aimlessly with the strings of your corset, you were hardly able to notice the passing gaze of your colleague. His footsteps trailing behind you whilst his head peered over your shoulder; a customarily charming grin curving the edge of his lips.

“My, don’t you look dashing?” Chamber crooned, a smooth string of laughter moving her chest. His hands moved to the loose ribbon, laced through the clasped, seemingly noticing your struggle.

The frenchman would raise a brow, brown gaze meeting yours in the reflection of the mirror, expectantly; “..And in apparent need of some assistance, if you would allow me?”