A slight grin pulls your cold lips taut as you regard the mortals' envy with detached indifference. Best that they know their betters and remain in their place.
"Thank you, Jonathan," you say as he ushers you through the door.
"You're most welcome, sir," the ghoul replies. "Might I offer a word of advice?"
"Certainly."
"Your clothing," he says, trying to pick his words carefully so as not to offend. "It is in poor shape."
If you were still capable of going red in the face from embarrassment you might have. In your rush to get to the party on time, you neglected your physical appearance after the business with Hauberk. Your tailored clothes are, of course, impeccable, but they're wrinkled and torn now, unseemly in several respects. "Do you have a suggestion?" you ask.
He's already on the case, perusing a long closet of formal wear while eyeballing you to figure out your size. "The Mistress insists that her visitors fit a certain aesthetic. These backups may not be as good as a proper fit, but it will have to do." He pulls out a luxurious Givenchy suit and urges you to try it on. It's a little tight around the chest, but you can make it work.
"This is excellent, Jonathan, thank you," you say gratefully.
"No trouble at all, sir." He shows you up the stairs to the observation mezzanine. "Enjoy the show."
The Exhibition Begins