Corliss smiles and takes another delicate sip. "Did I raise a cynic of a neonate?"
You nod and follow her lead. The blood is instantly refreshing. "Always questioning, never taking anything at face value."
"Well I just so happen to agree with you. But we'll keep this to ourselves for now. I'm sure more than half the room is skeptical of her story, but in my experience she'll have coated her untruths with just enough facts that the story holds together."
Alisha squeezes past you to take a glass from the table, the Diva's perfect curls bobbing and dancing inches from your face. Corliss clears her throat. "We were in the middle of a private conversation, Ms. Grey."
"Of course," Alisha replies with questionable sincerity. "I had something to mention, but it can wait." Before you can ask her to elaborate, she's waded back into the crowd again, a single glass flute perched delicately in her right hand, its carmine contents placid despite the speed of her long-legged gait.
"Uggh," Corliss grunts. "I've met Ferals more polite, and yet somehow she always manages to win us all over in the end. At least she runs a clean Elysium." She shakes her head.