#also apologies if i’ve gotten quanyii completely wrong

[blue-mood-blue]

The Nureyev and Buddy undercover as the loveless snobby couple who can barely stand one another

“Hey new kid, wanna play a game?”

The new kid mutters “I’m not a kid” but he doesn’t brush her off, and that raises him a few notches in Quanyii's good graces. It's so hard to get good help these days, and she'll die if she's stuck behind the counter all night at this stuffy party with nothing to do but get drunk people drunker. She'll die.

“You see that couple over there?” They're hard to miss, because they're both gorgeous. Even by the standards of the event, filled with the kind of people who could afford quality, surgical work and the best fitness routine money could buy, they stand out. The woman is a bombshell with a personality as eye-catching as her hair, and the man is refined in a carelessly elegant way. They don't look like a matched set, or eclectically complimentary; they look like fine china taken from two different styles of dishware and put out on the same table like they belong together.

They don't belong together.

And that, even more than their breathtaking beauty, is what catches Quanyii's eye.

The new kid looks over at the table and then back at Quanyii like he senses a trap. Smart. “What about them?”

“Which one do you think is having an affair?”

“I - what?”

Smart, and easily flustered too - a fun combination. Quanyii leans on the bar and slides a sly smile in his direction. “Which one do you think is sneaking around? Notching the bedpost? Picking a few extra flowers from the bush?” She gives the two another considering look. “Maybe both.” They are certainly attractive enough, and it would be a tragedy to think they're wasted on each other.

“Why do you... why.” New kid looks torn between wanting to run and reluctantly curious, and that's all the opening she needs. Last-minute hires are always such a toss-up; sometimes they're too nervous about the job to give her the time of day, and since she's been exiled and cruelly imprisoned behind the bar (and gotten enough of the other regulars in trouble that they know to steer clear) she depends on them entirely. “How do you know that? Why do you care?”

“Because they hate each other.” Quanyii doesn't have to hear what they're saying to guess all of the little barbs that are passing between them amid sips of cocktails and bites of overpriced sampler plates - but she will when she convinces her new spy to go and pick up juicy bits of gossip for her in a minute. It's obvious even from tables away. The couple is leaning away from each other, sizing each the other up lazily like familiar opponents. Their expressions are casual and cruel. A server has been to their table three times already and left with the same pinched expression. “And I’m bored. Bet you a whole bag of little umbrellas it’s the wife - she’s way too pretty not to get whoever she wants.”

“It’s him.” The new kid looks immediately mortified.

“Oh?” He doesn’t turn to look at her even though Quanyii has gotten obnoxiously close. “What’s your evidence?”

She’s sure he’s about to run. He surprises her. “He keeps spinning his wedding ring. It looks like the kind of habit a guy would have if he’s used to taking it off.”

It’s kind of a small detail to pick up from that distance, but Quanyii watches anyway and… there it is. Not an obvious tell, but an interesting one. She looks at her new best friend for the evening with fresh respect. “There’s two bags of little umbrellas in it for you if you can prove it.” He pretends to ignore her.

But he does prove it, two hours later and completely by accident. She closes the supply closet door with a delighted giggle and drops the promised loot with his personal effects in the back. Some people will do anything to win a bet.