Snippet #1662125

Adarius was hardly what anyone would call comfortable. While unease was a tad too strong of a word, awkward would probably fit just fine. Somewhere in Adarius's past, vague memories of fancy ballrooms and marble staircases flickered unsteadily, there was a time in his early childhood when his parents dragged him around to such high-class social gatherings, that was before his mother fell ill and most of the family funds were re-directed to new-fangled and experimental medical treatments, and before he started his long and destructive spiral. It had been at least a decade since Adarius had stepped foot on the grounds of such an extravagant place as this mansion.

As far as his current re-cooperative state went, any of the money his patents had left him and he hadn't squandered went to the church. In the technical sense, the clothes he was currently wearing weren't his own, but church issued. The jacket was more of a uniform than an evening piece. That being said, Adarius hardly felt underdressed for the occasion.

Finally taking a moment to glance about, and cease fidgeting with buttons, hair, scuffs on his shoes, and any other possible distractions, he noticed the other figures in the room. Everyone appeared to be in their twenties, no one notable young or old, and everyone seemed quite as bewildered as himself- if hiding it better to varying degrees. Taking a last glance, Adarius sought to catch someone’s eye before returning to his social seclusion.