Energized by thoughts of a promising future, she found herself letting loose, even allowing her shawl to slip a bit, showing off more of the scandalous red dress underneath. She really shouldn’t have brought the thing out here; her VIP wasn’t wearing his jacket, after all. Looking around, Honour realized that she was hardly in poor company when it came to plot-revealing outfits: plenty of mares around were shaking everything their dame gave them with little more than their tails to cover the underneath. The music was too good and she was in too good of a mood to want to head back to the table to drop it off. And she couldn’t just hoof it to Anonymous, even though that’s how it’s supposed to work, between colt and mare on the dance floor.