Lord John is, by comparison, absolutely no wallflower himself. He supposes he must have had it bred out of him. Or drilled, he supposes, whether through the rigorous training in the army or the endless lessons in etiquette he has been through by the sheer nature of being the son of a Duke. Regardless, he has managed to find something to dress himself in reminiscent of his usual party attire, and true to form he is drawing several pairs of eyes on this evening. The poetry reading he had volunteered himself for had doubtless helped. He doesn't know the phrase 'fake it until you make it', being from the 18th century, but it definitely applies.
As is polite, he too is taking in the other performances, once he has exhausted his practiced repertoire of dictations. Pausing now upon this man and the shimmering display of magic he is putting on. Magic is still, on a major part, very new to Lord John. It's hard not to believe this is not all some sort of an elaborate parlor trick, as he knows (Knows) such displays to be back home.
He hangs back a little, not wishing to interrupt, and waiting until the display is over before he applauds the performer.
"You have a remarkable gift," he says, truly not understanding whether this was an impressive feat of magic or not. Certainly it was to him at any rate.
no subject
As is polite, he too is taking in the other performances, once he has exhausted his practiced repertoire of dictations. Pausing now upon this man and the shimmering display of magic he is putting on. Magic is still, on a major part, very new to Lord John. It's hard not to believe this is not all some sort of an elaborate parlor trick, as he knows (Knows) such displays to be back home.
He hangs back a little, not wishing to interrupt, and waiting until the display is over before he applauds the performer.
"You have a remarkable gift," he says, truly not understanding whether this was an impressive feat of magic or not. Certainly it was to him at any rate.