Half an hour later.
There was an officially organized party after the award ceremony, made mostly so that journalists and talent agents could speak with the contest participants without catching them in the music hall corners.
It was set in another hall of the building, large enough to fit a hundred people and tables with mediocre finger-foods. The only alcohol was champagne, and it wasn't enough to smooth the social awkwardness between people.
By Tristan's standards, the party was incredibly lame.
Good thing he was here for business.
As soon as Tristan stepped foot in the hall, he was approached by a journalist wielding a notepad and a fake smile. Behind him, a few more people were already making a line of people who wanted to talk with Tristan, all of them pushing Nel away.
