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"Griffiths, you're late." The Grey Fox stood outside the venue – a grand affair of gothic moulding in Portland stone – adjusting silver and topaz cufflinks which glittered in the clear September night. "And what the devil are you wearing?"
"You," Aderyn wagged her finger at the Fox as she climbed out of a Black Cab, "didn't exactly give me a lot of notice about this job. So you don't get to bitch about what I managed to rustle up."
"And which flea market did you 'rustle it up' from?"
"Piss off," Aderyn said with a grin as she straightened the multicoloured, patchwork skirts of her dress. "You told me to get summint fashionable, so I did."
The Fox's lips quirked under the grey kid-leather cowl. "In what universe is that fashionable? Perhaps a dropout student's failed project..."
"'S from a proper House, meanie. By Marine Serre, innit. Right off the runway, few years back," Aderyn said as they walked towards the entrance. "I called in a big fucking favour from a dealer I know for this get-up. And it's going on expenses. Four hours – 'specially when I spent half of 'em driving – ain't nearly enough time to prep for a black tie gig. Where's 'Hels?"
"Ms Kumar is inside. Be that as it may, you don't think it rather... garish for this kind of event?"
Aderyn flicked an eye over the Fox's silver-grey Chinese silk suit, and the cream shirt and indigo cummerbund tucked under it.
"It's a summer dress for a harvest event. No, I don't think it's too garish. Just cuz you're wedded to the aesthetic of a miserable winter's day don't mean the rest of us can't have fun at work."
"A capital notion indeed," the Fox said, smiling as he handed over their invitations. "I'm glad you feel that way."
The two entered the venue, into a vestibule of plush carpets and soft couches.
"Now that you've finished lambasting me, it appears you're in finer humour. I think you'll need it for the job at hand," the Fox said as he swept Aderyn into a grand ballroom, filled with spangled lights and expensive tailoring.