Monet is happy enough to let the pair go, though she watches them until they're out of sight. Pansy's new, undivided attention puts color in the high points of her cheeks, but she manages a casual, disaffected shrug.

"I'm having a lovely time," she says truthfully, prickles forgotten. "This is far more entertaining than if I'd come here alone."

...Or with someone else, probably. A person who might expect more getting-to-know-you small talk, or for her to want to dance with them, or maybe a kiss at the end of the night. Monet is grateful she's been excused from these expectations.

"Though," she jokes drily, sweeping the dance floor with an icy stare as if saying Noah's name aloud might have summoned him, "Now that I'm on the ground, I may need to abandon that particular side objective. This setting is too dramatic. He'd have the upper hand."

As much as the wilted, chained romantic within Monet is enjoying swanning about in red silk, a starlet on a mission.