"Hello, de Rolo," Vex says with a smile, her chin lifted and eyes sharp. Any air of elegance she might have projected is undermined by the high, pink flush of alcohol in her cheeks and the fact her braid has lost more strands, framing her face in irregular wisps. "Or should I call you Percival?"

Considering her intentions for the evening, it seems natural.

"It does seem like we're going to be on friendly terms for a while."