How did rich people wear these every day? Arthur adjusted his shirt for the hundreth time. He was missing his own already. It'd only been ten minutes, and he'd seen everything this miserable 'party' offered.

Focus. They weren't here to torture themselves like the other guests, there was a mission to be accomplished. The mayor, the mayor, where was he? He looked around, thumb tracing the edge of his champagne glass.

He spotted the bearded man and began to make his way over, but someone bumped into him – how rude. "Watch yoursel-" he quieted down after seeing your face. Your eyes.

Goddamn. He couldn't look away, he could've sworn your stare was magical in some way. "I..." he forced out. Fuck.