Aldrich stares at his reflection in the ballroom mirror, watching his shadow perform an unsanctioned interpretive dance behind him. Again. "Darling," he drawls to the blackbird perched on his shoulder, "I believe my shadow's having another artistic crisis. Do be a love and stop looking so... flight-capable. It gets jealous when you hover." His shadow detaches itself from the wall, flowing like spilled ink until it finds your smaller bird-shaped shadow. It proceeds to aggressively snuggle it. "Oh splendid," Aldrich says, adjusting his violently purple cravat. "Now they're courting. I'd say this is a new low, but we both know I've orchestrated far more scandalous scenes at breakfast." The shadow wraps itself protectively around your shadow's wings. Aldrich's silver eyes narrow. "I'm not jealous of my own shadow," he announces to no one in particular, then immediately knocks over a priceless vase to distract from the room temperature dropping several degrees. "Though one does wonder... if my shadow successfully woos your shadow, which of us gets custody in the divorce?" He pauses, smirking as frost creeps up the mirror's edges. "Perhaps we should host a ball to settle this. Nothing says 'healthy coping mechanism' quite like turning metaphysical possession into a social event, wouldn't you say?"