welcome to chimera!

[John Homme]

Crossing the room, leisured as he seemed, Lisette at his arm, John began to feel a tinge of concern. After he'd begun to approach another, with every intention of making proper introductions - and, in fact, having promised to do so, the other had begun to...well, look quite sick. Standing over by the table was Rosier, with only a decidedly grey cast to his skin to keep him company. Pace quickening just a little, though he was careful to mind his companion, who he understood to be wearing shoes that could be difficult to hurry in, he was soon before the Slytherin.

By the time he'd arrived, upon close inspection, he found that he was unable to muster any proper manners; John made no move toward introduction. or even greetings, at all. Rather, he spared Lisette a glance, hoping to catch her eye over the apparent state of the sixth year. "Um," he began, a little nervous to be speaking to him at a function, but even more nervous about the way he looked. Finally dragging his gaze back over to Foras, indirectly, he forced himself to continue. "Are you -- are you feeling well?" he said, eyes a little rounder than normal and frowning just slightly.

[Foras Rosier]

Having moved away from his little band of 'friends' as much for a breath of fresh air as to fetch himself a drink, Foras Rosier paused there for a good five minutes. Impeccably presented and drawn up as always, he successfully managed to position himself where Slughorn could not possibly reach without some very undignified moving of his belly-fat: Rosier was not a person who enjoyed interruption, and certainly not from those he deemed inferior to himself. Swallowing some of his drink, he levelled his gaze around the room, rather wishing he had thought to bring Decimus with him, or that Tom could extricate himself from the other members of their friendship circle for a moment. Still, he wasn't inclined towards loneliness, and he merely allowed his hatred to continue to fester.

It was after the door opened and a few dozen more students suddenly slipped in that his eyebrows arched, his gaze focusing again, distracted away from his total disdain of parties. Barely had he had a chance to wonder at the influx of late guests, however, when John Homme and his... ah, lady friend, by the looks of it, had interrupted him. Caught immediately in a conversation he would rather have avoided, for all he might have been warming to the painter's company, he allowed his eyes to skate only briefly over Lisette, head inclining in a painfully polite greeting, before he was again distracted by John's questioning. What in the world...?

"Yes, thank you," he replied, allowing an appropriate note of puzzlement to enter his voice. Stalling a moment, unsure of the protocol when someone had failed to introduce their date, he allowed his eyes to pass between them, completely failing to realise that his face was so grey as to be closer to colourless. "Ah, and who is this?" His tone lacked warmth or flattery, but it was an obviously sincere attempt at conversation.

[John Homme]

More than a little alarmed, both by his appearance and by his unaffected and conversational tone, John spared Lisette another glance -- he did not, however, give her a chance to speak. "Oh," he said, hardly apologetic, despite his nature to be. "That's Lisette." Uncharacteristically, the introduction bordered on dismissive, and he amended it, haltingly, half a moment later, eyes still quite rounded, "Lisette Sc-Scamander." However, he was not deterred at all from his original question, even if Foras easily strayed from the subject. "Are you sure you're alright?" he said, as insistent as John ever sounded -- which, to be honest, was not saying much. Still, there was a tone of nervousness and discomfort there. "You look...very ill."

[Lisette Scamander]

The party was enjoyable, which was saying something, though not much more than that. Lisette was enjoying John’s company, but would have done so equally well in the common room. She was not particularly cranky over it though – she could have easily refused to go, and nothing about the event was very different than she had expected. Besides, meeting Foras Rosier did genuinely interest her. She knew his name and prefect badge only, and after John had pointed him out, she thought his solemn expression might have been familiar. But younger students didn’t particularly stand out to Lisette, without reason, and she had never thought he was memorable.

But his interest in John, in turn, interested her. Her investment in John’s art was quite deep and her appreciation of his work undeniably genuine. She sat with his paintings for some time and quietly gave him what she could in terms of supplies, without drawing attention to her charity. In an un-spoken way, she considered herself a sort of patron to her closest friend, and so Rosier’s investment suddently caught her attention for various reasons. If one of them was competition, she kept that to herself. Mostly, the idea of discovering someone new with an appreciation of accomplished painting was enough on its own.

She held John’s arm, approaching the Slytherin who was now alone and looking distinctly ashen. She blinked as her introduction turned into a strange sort of dismissal, though she said nothing in objection and simply nodded at the ill-looking boy: “Nice to meet you. John’s told me about you and I was curious.”

Her curiosity, like her introduction, was cut short by John’s concern and quietly noticing his unease, she slipped her arm out of his, momentarily unaware that her skin was slowly turning a soft shade of pale blue.

[Foras Rosier]

Noting the dismissiveness and finding that he was becoming rapidly more ill-at-ease with this conversation, Rosier paused for a moment or two as he tried to formulate what to say. He found, despite himself, that there was no festering loathing tingeing his reaction to John - and that, in itself, was troubling. Instead directing his gaze back to his date, he inclined his head again, sparing himself the trouble of kissing her hand due to her uncertain ancestry.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Scamander," he intoned, formal as ever, and immediately wondered about what exactly John had told her. Pushing the paranoia down - honestly, why did it even matter? - he instead glanced back at Homme again.

"Yes," he replied, still puzzled, slightly more firmly. "Yes, I am quite well." Still, the comment on his appearance was enough to stall him again; he glanced back at Lisette helplessly, as though wondering whether she was offended by her date's lack of propriety... and suddenly noticed that she was going a strange shade of blue. Briefly forgetting politeness himself, he cast his gaze over the slightly more chaotic party - ah, yes. Everyone was turning different shades. Puzzlement overtaking him completely, he checked his reflection in a piece of silverware before turning back to his conversational partners, grey complexion deepening to absolutely colourless. "It would appear, however, that I am not the only one looking a little strange." With a controlled hand gesture, he indicated Lisette.