[Monty is at the ball in a fabulous outfit of black and gold, with black velvet breeches and a lace cravat made by the finest tailor Monty could find. Who he now owes a spectacular amount of coin he doesn't have, but no matter - something's bound to turn up before anyone shanks him for it, and one must be properly attired for a gala.
It's been a splendid time so far. He's thoroughly foxed on the free drinks, having stolen nowhere near enough canapes to mop them up, and he's stolen three mistletoe kisses with two absurdly curvy young maidens and... one unsettlingly muscular octogenarian but there's no need to dwell on that.
The problem now is that there's a dusting of gold glitter all over him - across his shoulders, in his hair, and no one to dance with. Everyone's paired off in advance of him reaching the floor.
Or almost everyone. Across the way he spots a tall, dark, somewhat gangly figure and - praise any old god who might be listening - he recognises him. The other boy might even told him his name, once. A few times, even.
No matter. Monty pursues him across the floor.]
Hey, you there. Tree person. Um. Forest boy? I say, hold on a moment, won't you?
GOLD GLITTER
It's been a splendid time so far. He's thoroughly foxed on the free drinks, having stolen nowhere near enough canapes to mop them up, and he's stolen three mistletoe kisses with two absurdly curvy young maidens and... one unsettlingly muscular octogenarian but there's no need to dwell on that.
The problem now is that there's a dusting of gold glitter all over him - across his shoulders, in his hair, and no one to dance with. Everyone's paired off in advance of him reaching the floor.
Or almost everyone. Across the way he spots a tall, dark, somewhat gangly figure and - praise any old god who might be listening - he recognises him. The other boy might even told him his name, once. A few times, even.
No matter. Monty pursues him across the floor.]
Hey, you there. Tree person. Um. Forest boy? I say, hold on a moment, won't you?