Eliot was always on the lookout for new faces. Not necessarily Chosen: any native who was new to the social scene was a new potential contact, a new potential client. He didn't know whether this woman was a native or not, but she was definitely new, and she stood out, moving through the crowd solo as she was.

He was holding his own half-finished glass of champagne when he approached her, looking every inch like he belonged here: a sport coat over a vest and patterned shirt, his tie tied in a trinity knot.

"You're new," he noted, offering her a charming smile and a hand to shake. "I'm Eliot."