<br/>Joie Indeed. The Valerian Dowayne finished his first drink in a single draught, setting the glass upside down on a passing apprentice's tray. Another blank back, an empty canvas for whichever house she was from. He followed that back with his eyes for a while, until it almost got lost among the many others that flitted around.<em>Butterflies</em>, he thought, and his lips curled upward at the corners when he saw her almost trip. The older Valerian didn't watch Leocadie's approach, then, but the light change on his balance leg towards her frame and the turn of his shoulder in her direction would tell he was well aware of it. The moment he felt her fingers along his furs, Yves' half grin widened just a little more; it felt softer than it looked against her touch, warming against the cold of winter's snow.<br/><br/>"How perceptive of you" he murmured, "If only I were /half/ as creative as to think of dressing as the Maghuin Dhonn." The flicker on his eye had just enough of a  conspiratorial gleam to say otherwise. When he looked down at her again, the Valerian's arm found its own way around her so that he could lean in for a kiss of greeting. He kept it simple, and mostly chaste, considering. "Joie to you, my friend." And then he carried on with the prior subject, as if he had never left it. "Of course, they might take offense on that, or wonder if I just might have some of their blood too."  Another look around tried to spy for potential alban celebrants drew him to the entrance of the Camellias. "But truly, I thought bringing out part of our inner animals might be fun. I almost go for a Lion instead, but then the Trevalion might complain, and I have no intention of falling on my sword." Pure taunt, that.<br/><br/>"Oh Dear, look at That." His touch eased against Leocadie's side, which only made the claws feel closer through the thin veil of her clothing. "Camellia is at its best this year. What do you think got into her head to pick one so young as her second?" There was actually no criticism in his tone, but if the Dowaynes couldn't gossip among themselves, who the hell were they going to gossip with? "And she hasn't even finished her marque."<em>Pretty, pretty butterflies</em>. Another tray passed by, and he reached for another glass while barely managing to avoid tripping it over when the youth saw those shining claws coming. He lifted it towards Dowayne and Second, greeting them both in one toast. Soon it would be time to fade into the background with the apprentices, and let those who hadn't completed their marques enjoy themselves without having his presence to remind them of every other night in the year.<br/><br/>"What shall we wager on tonight?" He had to say that before Bryony showed up of course, otherwise they just /might/ come up with something evil.