High Times The night of "The Gala". It was during this time that a shadow tended to loom over the city of Coronet. A heaviness in the atmosphere, perceivable only to those who were privy to the gravity of the occasion. Those who understood the potentialities of such an intermingling of prestige and infamy. For the vibrant cascade of neon, that bathed the bustling streets at night, and the glitz and glamour that surrounded the night's proceedings, served only to mask the darkness that laid beneath the surface... Glistering gold glared back at Lux from the other side of the mirror, as he tautened the knot of his tie. He glanced down at the surface of the hotel's dresser, brow furrowed as he scanned his briefing once again. Preceding the exhaustive list of fashions and faux pas, an underlined prompt stated in bold: "Dress As Though You Were Invited." Lux smirked at the snark of it. Though one could never be too sure on jobs for the wealthy. He'd once seen a bodyguard denied pay for being stopped at the doors of a casino, for her decision not to wear a dress. He gathered that comfortability was rarely at the top of the priorities of those who sought to maintain a certain facade. Let alone practicality. For this job, it appeared the client required his bodyguards to appear as though they belonged at the event, and explicitly not as blatant hired guns. Fortunately for him, he was far from averse to donning some formal attire every now and again. In fact, he was fairly used to it. There was hardly room for a suit and tie on the battlefield, but he was inclined to spend his earnings in the realms of the wealthy. Though participating in luxuriant indulgences was certainly a draw after a grueling campaign, he was far more intrigued to analyse the people that navigated those circles as a matter of routine. Research. With perks, naturally. Lux decided that a degree of conspicuousness was the best course of action. Dress to impress and blend into the soiree, as though he were any other rich bachelor jumping at the latest opportunity to flaunt his peacock feathers. His velvet jacket was a deep burgundy, with a pair of trousers to match, framing a tan dress-shirt and beige-gold tie. Well tailored. Great to look at. But not ideal for concealment of weapons. Satisfied with his attire, Lux checked his watch and headed from his room to the porch of his hotel. Bang on time, his client's Limousine hovered quietly outside, awaiting his arrival. As far as he knew, he and his comrades would be briefed further inside. The driver exited the limo and opened the backdoor. Taking in the city air as he did, Lux entered and took a seat on the plush leather.