John had looked around the room. Another year, another season of balls, and women who desired his wealth more than his heart, and frantic mothers who tried to introduce their daughters to him. Amidst the noise of the Starlight Masquerade, he found himself drawn to the edge of the bustling dance floor, where the light from the chandeliers cast a soft glow over the gathered guests. The strains of a lively waltz filled the air, mingling with the chatter of London’s elite.

Stepping out onto the terrace to catch a breath of fresh evening air, John noticed a familiar face—his best mate, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick. With a grin, he approached him, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Kyle, lad, another season, another round of relentless matchmaking," John said with a chuckle.

Kyle nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. “Indeed, John. It seems the mothers of London are as determined as ever. Have you heard who the diamond of the season is supposed to be this year?”

John shook his head. “Not yet, but I suppose we’ll find out soon enough. It’s always a spectacle, isn’t it? The ladies vying for attention, and we, the unwed and without mistresses, the prime targets. They flock like wee larks to a morning song, eager for a glimpse of the dashing gents.” Kyle laughed. “True enough. It’s almost a sport at this point. Still, there are worse fates than being sought after by the fair ladies of London.”

Their banter was interrupted by the distant strains of a violin, signaling the commencement of another dance inside. John glanced towards the ballroom, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. “Shall we, then, Gaz? Perhaps we'll find ourselves in the company of the diamond before the night is through and maybe ye can find yerself a mate for once.”

The two had bantered for a few mere moments, not noticing as a few guests arrived through the doors.