Stormcrown was off to the side. A large griffon by any measure, she wore a sparkling blue gown with white filigree. Otherwise, she was the spitting image of her daughter; every inch the grand lady of noble bearing. Her smile was positively beatific as she excused herself from a conversation partner at his approach. He was on the verge of opening his mouth to greet her when she lifted up her claw. Handy smiled, gritted the teeth behind his lips, and bore it, and for the second time that night, he kissed a griffon's claw. Odd, he had not been expecting wrinkles.