<div class="floatleft">(https://www.theplace2.ru/archive/antje_utgaard/img/1080full_antje_utgaard_(10).jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>Name:</strong> Francesca Vinter<br/><strong>Location:</strong> Slowly making her way to the Bar<br/><strong>Time:</strong> The beginning<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong> This (https://i.pinimg.com/736x/2b/3b/86/2b3b86bdcbff28494173b0e575ea2839.jpg) + Mask (https://cdn-img-3.wanelo.com/p/f2e/d17/1c4/f2df41efc4b07f051199314/x354-q80.jpg)<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong> Open<br/><strong>Notes:</strong> Meh...</span><hr/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">There was no road map, no carefully set plan, list, itinerary, schedule, timing, or any of that for tonight. Francesca had started her night when she'd felt the urge to do so, primping and prepping herself quite lavishly more for the mindset than anything else. She'd dressed and left the house when she felt confident in doing so, and her trip to the sprawling mansion of the sultry goddess that was Mia Romero had been the scenic route for sure. Perhaps the only nod to anything approaching her usual day to day hectic schedule was that she still had her phone glued to her hand throughout it all, but at least most of what she dealt with was more social and geared toward the night that lay ahead. <br/><br/>Given her height and build, no one was going to confuse the statuesque blonde with anyone else. That much was for sure. Even after having left the life in front of the camera in her late teens, she was still a recognizable figure. Social media and her own interests had seen to it that she hadn't disappeared into obscurity. Which was great for many of the causes she championed but sometimes it could get a bit tiring. Fortunately, nights like this were a definite chance to shake things up, without cameras or people dedicated to documenting every move you made. In fact, she was reasonably sure there'd be no documenting of any sort outside of mere memory and that was just golden with her.<br/><br/>Francesca arrived at the party when she arrived and not a minute before or after that. Which was to say, the woman had no idea what time it was and didn't much care. Exiting her vehicle she made the trip up to the entrance on gold skyscraper heels that set her already notable height well above the norm. Her dress was white and flowy, her mask more accessory than anything, but she was ready for a good damn time. Something which showed in the familiar and enthusiastic greeting she gave to her hostess, her green eyes already flashing with mischief. After that she was set free, unleashed unto the party. Snagging two flutes of champagne she downed one and immediately gave the glass back to the waiter before wandering away to see who she might run into. Sure, she could turn up by herself and have a good time, but where was the fun in that? </span>