Gwen cast her eyes about the room, a habit, as she kept half an ear to the conversation of her companions. Anything of true interest had been mentioned much earlier in the evening and now it was all general good humor after more than a few glasses of wine and other spirits.

She wasn't particularly social by nature, however. Gwen knew how to be congenial to find out the things she wanted, but there were very few people that she desired to actually spend time with, none she was standing with being of that group. It was much different if there was something or someone of interest to keep her here, but as it was, she was contemplating when it would be appropriate to excuse herself and go home.

Also, Gwen had had quite enough of the older dames whispering and sending dirty looks her way. They were all trying to marry their young pureblooded daughters to the most eligible men with the largest vaults. There were many of those same men in attendance tonight and Gwen knew more than a few of them, had chatted and danced with them over the course of the evening even.

It was with that thought in the forefront of her mind that she felt someone's eyes on her. She turned her head slightly, eyes flicking to a woman a few paces away standing with an attractive man she couldn't place. She caught the look of disdain and annoyance on the woman's face before it slipped back to neutral as she saw Gwen glance her way.

Gwen's brow rose just barely, amused now that she was still getting these looks after all these years of her actively staying unmarried. Her gaze shifted to the man standing next to the older woman and saw that he too was looking her direction, her amusement reflected in a small twitch of lips.

If one more nosy old woman inquired about the size of his holdings and his prospects for the future, Tristan was fairly sure he might actually combust with frustration. He'd had a pleasant enough time talking and dancing with Tracey earlier in the evening, but an hour and six chatty women later, his chair by the hearth was looking increasingly appealing, even though the manor would be completely silent. It was good that Regan had wanted to stay at school, but he'd expected to spend the night in Paris, not having his ears wrung by meddling mothers.

It took him a moment to recognize Gwen Jones standing not far away as Mrs. Kettingham was winding down, and his eyes evidently detoured a beat too long, as a scathing "some people" was uttered at his side. "Not a fan of Quidditch, Mrs. Kettingham?" Tristan inquired, keeping his expression very carefully neutral as he turned back to his current company.

"I suppose there's nothing wrong with it, dear," she covered, smiling simperingly up at him. "It's just that some women know their places and others seem not to. You don't know her, do you?"

Finished playing along with her smarmy conversation, Tristan flashed the older woman a charming, empty smile. "No, though I can't say I'd mind. Do excuse me, please." Her exasperated "well I never!" meant biting the inside of his cheek to suppress a full-on smirk as he turned, once again catching the eye of the Harpies' captain, who seemed to be rather tired of her own companions. He was halted midway past her group by two couples heading for the dance floor, and regarded her as he waited for them to move, allowing a trace of mirth to light his face.

Gwen watched the quick interplay between the tall man and rude woman, her interest piqued as he excused himself and started her way, his neutral expression slipping to reveal the barest traces of amusement. It seemed as if she wasn't the only one in the room that found the matchmaking at these gatherings more than tiresome, though for very different reasons.

She met his eyes as he paused, lips twitching as he watched her. Not only did he seem to share her wry amusement, but he had a heaviness to his gaze that prompted her to turn back to her companions and excuse herself.

Gwen turned back, eyes catching his again, and took the few steps towards him that were allowed as the last few people between them passed by. She didn't move any closer once they had gone, but she let amusement show in her expression as she watched him.

Tristan paused as his next long step put him in Gwen's path, and arched an eyebrow pointedly at her. "I do hope you haven't a daughter you'd dearly like for me to marry," he quipped, knowing full well that she didn't, "as it would be a most lamentable cap to the evening." His eyes gave away the complete jest of his statement, though he kept his face in check. He'd followed her team for several years as a bit of a curiosity; they were remarkably successful for such an unusual roster - all women, which ought to put them at a disadvantage against most of the league, even granted their impressively symbiotic style of play.

Gwen tipped her head back to keep eye contact as he came closer, a low, rich chuckle slipping out as he spoke. "I'm quite sure you've met your share of would-be brides tonight, but lucky for you, I've none to introduce you to." A smile continued to play at her lips as she watched his eyes dance. "However, I can offer you my company and perhaps we can endeavor to end the evening pleasantly for both of us," she finished, offering her hand a moment later. "Gwen Jones."

"I believe I like the sound of that," Tristan agreed, taking her hand in a firm and friendly shake. "Tristan Bole. My apologies for Mrs. Kettingham's manners, as well. Evidently she's not a fan." He imagined Gwen was rather used to the behavior of the society dames at these events if her original reaction was anything to go by, but it didn't excuse him accidentally calling attention to her.

"No, not everyone is, I'm afraid," she answered, taking note that he had a warm, firm handshake. "And I'm fairly positive that the more time I spend here with you, the more they'll have to get affronted about." Gwen's eyes scanned over his face and she found that she was glad she hadn't left earlier. It wasn't often that she met someone that was as bemused by these gatherings as she was.

Finding himself utterly unconcerned by the prospect, as he'd never had the slightest intention of marrying any of the women who frequented such places on the hunt, Tristan smiled, already more entertained than he'd been since arriving. "While I generally avoid such things as a matter of principle, as one never knows when certain people might be... useful, I'll admit to that being quite the idea at the moment. It might, if I'm very lucky, even make a point about my reasons for attending this evening." He made a small bow and held his hand out to Gwen, a smirk just curling one corner of his mouth. "Would you care to dance?"

Gwen felt a tiny smirk tug at the corner of her mouth as she slid her hand into his. "I'd love to, Tristan." Her eyes danced with just a bit of wickedness as she continued, "I'm sure we could make a few points with a dance or two and they'll still have to be pleasant to both of us. Decorum really is such a lovely thing to toy with." Gwen found that she was enjoying herself more than she had in some time. Tristan understood the game and the rules and she was very much bordering on having fun.

"Isn't it, though? And so much more enjoyable for us than subjecting ourselves to the company I've encountered until just now." Tristan led the way to the dance floor, pausing just a moment for Gwen to step into him before he had them caught into the waltz that was beginning. "You were a Slytherin too, I remember," he pointed out as they stepped and turned, his smirk back in full force, "no stranger to causing a bit of stir, or so I would imagine. No harm in keeping oneself in practice, as it were."

"A Slytherin too, then," Gwen mused, relaxing into his hand at her back as they turned. She wasn't surprised in the least to find that they shared a house if the quick understanding they had of each other was any indication.

Her eyes dropped to his smirk then, pleased almost, to see more than a quirk of lips. What he currently wore was a smile of willful wickedness and she found herself responding in turn, her own lips curving into a mirrored expression. "It's been much too long since I've talked to someone who grasped the pleasure in causing a stir that no one can do anything about."

Nodding at her appraisal, Tristan elaborated, "The year after you left, so we never met. All the upper years spoke rather as if they were missing their queen, though; happy coincidence to have the opportunity this evening." It met his initial sense of her that she followed well and seemed to genuinely enjoy dancing, moving with the music instead of simply allowing the two things to happen at once. Her words provoked a chuckle, genuine and warm. "After three hours of extricating myself from entirely too much unwanted attention, repaying a small portion of insoluble frustration makes my little heart leap. Most glad to be of service."

At his last words, Gwen's eyes danced with the possibilities of stirring up all the old dames just a bit more. "A dance to repay three hours seems entirely uneven in their favor. Perhaps one more, this time giving them something to scowl about," she suggested as the music changed, bringing her body just shy of his, enough to feel heat, on the last turn.

His arm sliding around Gwen's waist as she shifted, Tristan smiled in a not-quite-nice way, amused at both her assessment of the situation and her proposed solution. "Out to ruffle more than a few feathers this evening, Gwen?" he asked, pulling her easily into step, his levity continuing to hover at the corners of his mouth. He'd no objections to dancing a bit closer; this was a most pleasant diversion in an otherwise mainly dull event, and having a beautiful woman in his arms was never likely to cause complaint.

"You could say that," she replied, quite aware of his body near hers now, his arm around her waist. The heat was something she always lived in awareness of, some people more than others, Tristan being one of the 'more', apparently. It was just a spark though, a pleasant buzz across her skin; a good indication that they were probably getting more than a few frowns from many a dame, not that she cared to look. They were always frowning at her, but it was satisfying to ruffle their feathers apurpose, not to mention that it was no hardship to talk or dance with Tristan. "Mostly it's amusing to see them ruffled at all, and it's quite nice to share this little bit of entertainment with someone who appreciates it ..." she paused as they turned, body moving with his, "... and dances rather well."

"That I can certainly agree with," Tristan answered, thinking briefly of what fun it might have been to dance with Tracey if she'd not been wishing herself so vehemently home. Gwen seemed to be harboring no such reservations, and he was very amenable to the idea of spending a while longer as they were. He tilted his head in acceptance of the compliment, offering, "Well, you've a dance partner as long as you like, then, as I'd yet to find such welcome company tonight, even leaving off our sour-faced audience."

"That's lovely of you to say, though I'm sure it's not exactly the ..." Gwen lips quirked into the barest of smiles as she paused, continuing a moment later, "... complete truth. I happen to know there are quite a few people in attendance tonight that are very pleasant to talk to, though I must agree that none yet has been so welcome as you." Tristan could take what he would from her words, but it was truth. Gwen socialized for a purpose, though it was always a welcome benefit when she actually enjoyed the people she talked and associated with. She very rarely talked to new people for no other reason than the pleasure of their company.

Brows raising at Gwen's assertion, more than her apparent doubt of his total sincerity, Tristan shrugged and nodded in the direction of a cluster of women regarding them with disdain. "You've had much better luck encountering such persons than I, then, as my associations have consisted, almost to a one, of society matrons with visions of grandchildren dancing in their heads." Internally shaking off his sense of distaste for that happenstance, he directed his attention to the issue of her disbelief. "Though of course you may believe as you will, I never twist my words to find favor I actually value."

Gwen's eyes followed the direction Tristan had indicated, not unsurprised to see a group of women flounce away once they realized they'd been caught being less than congenial by her. Bringing her gaze back to the man whose arms she was currently in, she commented, "It does seem your luck has been lacking."

Her brows rose slightly at his latter statement and she regarded him a moment as they turned about the floor. A warm, rich chuckle slipped her lips then and she tipped her head back a bit more to take him in. "I find that I'm inclined to believe you're telling the truth, and that perhaps I may be a bit flattered even. A true Slytherin never gives their favor lightly, after all," she mused.

"Nor is it lightly sought, by anyone who understands its worth," Tristan returned, greatly intrigued by the volley of their conversation. It was not nearly so often as he'd like that he met someone, man or woman, both capable and willing to fling words back and forth as a matter of sport, which was a shame as it was something he considered great fun. The music was changing again, and his eyes suggested the possibility of another dance, should Gwen be so disposed.

Gwen's eyes lit at his words, more pleased than she could remember being in a long time that Tristan seemed to not only play the game so well, but he understood much of what seemed to elude most people she knew, many Slytherins included. "Indeed, you are right. Though a beautiful double edged sword is irresistible to those who think they can handle such a prize, walk that fine line of balance and control between the sharp edges." As the music slowed again, the song changing, Gwen's lips twitched into a small smile at the look in his eyes and she stepped just a bit closer. "We shall see then if I get cut or not," she finished, voice low and warm.

A smile hiding just past the corners of his lips at Gwen's remarkably adept parry, Tristan's eyes flashed dark for a second as she moved further into his arms, to be quickly replaced by the sparkle of amusement her words caused. "To have and retain, however," he said softly, voice carrying just above the music, "one must know where the edges are sharp, and where they may be held, whether the places be dulled from use or purposefully made." He'd adopt her metaphor, as it was a good one and easily carried. "For what a pity to grasp it only by the hilt, with none of the anticipation over a chance of spilled blood."

Gwen's smile slipped into something just a little darker then, her eyes a bit heavy as she murmured her agreement. "Mmm, and where's the pleasure of learning such a weapon without a little spilled blood, after all?" Her eyes scanned his features again, catching just the barest hints of amusement and perhaps more. "It makes it all so much more rewarding in the end, being able to run one's hands over it with a familiarity hard won, fiercely kept."

"So much the better to consider it possessed, if such a thing ever truly can be. Polymorphous, mutable... a clever thing, almost, is favor. Worth a bit of risk." A slow smile followed his words, the light in his eyes not quite admitting to his thoughts, though a small part of his mind was turning over the idea of Gwen's fierceness and finding it met with his approval. "Cuts heal, in the end," he mused aloud, absently glad that his body was perfectly capable of executing the dance they were still in the middle of without an excess of attention given to the task, his gaze holding Gwen's, part still in curiosity as she watched him just as steadily.

Gwen held Tristan's gaze, quite intent on the man just in front of her as they twirled about the room. "Yes, cuts heal, but favor, once pricked, forever holds that little scar of doubt," she answered him after a few moments. "It's still worth the risk, with the right person though, no?" she asked. "After all, the returns from favor of those you truly value are priceless indeed." Her thoughts flicked to Joscelin then, the one person whose favor she had ever truly valued, and her face softened just a bit as she recalled the picture she had saved in her mind of him holding her by the fire on his last night in Britain.

Reading the shift in reference as Gwen's features turned the slightest bit wistful, Tristan nodded, willing to concede a minor victory in a skirmish well played. "Most deftly phrased," he acknowledged with a dip of his head, "and for my part, may it never be so wounded as to leave a lasting mark. Such a thing heralds too deep a cut, a tragedy unaccountable among... those of a common understanding." He wondered what thought had the power to disrupt her advance and unmask her face, even for a moment, but it was a thing to be considered at some other time, as the asking would be insurmountably rude.

Tristan's words pulled her attention back to the present and Gwen felt her lips curl into the barest of smiles as he yielded, for now. "A tragedy, to be sure," she murmured, voice soft and warm, "as it is so very rare to meet those of common understanding." She was intrigued by their meeting thus far and tipped her face up just a bit more, regarding him with interest as they continued to twirl about the room. It was rare indeed that Gwen met someone so adept at the game of words and meanings, that was aware of the layers to be pulled back, the two sides to everything.

"The spoken truth," Tristan assented, having found in the course of his life that Gwen had the right of things in this instance. Striking beauty and sinuous grace aside, her reason and wit were razor sharp, qualities unlikely to be happened upon all of a piece. Their dialogue was a challenge thrown and accepted, over and again, and she'd proven skillful at fielding his gauntlets no matter the angle. Spinning her lightly away and then back to his arms as the last notes of the melody faded, the musicians looking to have decided on a break, Tristan favored Gwen with a genuine smile, concluding, "Now I believe I can say with absolute sincerity that your company has been the most prepossessing of my evening."

Gwen was more fond of ... the more passionate dances, but as she spun back into Tristan's arms, she had a thought that even a waltz was enjoyable with the right partner. As she came to a standstill, the first thing she saw was his smile, and she was taken aback for a moment. Tristan was an attractive man, but with that smile - it was probably best he didn't go flashing it around everywhere with all the attention he already got from every woman in the room that had a daughter of marriageable age.

Her eyes drifted up to his, and her lips twitched, almost a smile, to see the sincerity there and in his words. "And now that we have taken each other's measure, so to speak, I can accept the truth you are offering." Gwen smiled then, not that it was a hardship, as she had been enjoying herself, but she wanted him to know that she was being sincere as well. "Thank you, Tristan. The evening was made better for your acquaintance." Her brows rose ever so slightly then, "perhaps we should consider each other's company again sometime?"

Drawing back the half step that would create a semblance of respectable space between them, pleasant as it was to have her at rest in his arms, Tristan nodded, his smile softening minutely as Gwen mirrored the expression. "My most honest pleasure," he responded, bowing once more over her hand so that he might press a light kiss to her knuckles. His mouth curled crookedly at one corner as he straightened, considering the possibility of seeing her again apurpose. "That is something to which I'd look forward; it's not often I find a well-matched sparring partner," he taunted good-naturedly, eyes alight with mirth, "Though you have my gratitude already for brightening an event I thought doomed to dullness."

As much fun as it had been verbally sparring with Tristan, Gwen was by nature a physical being and her eyes intently followed all the small changes in his expression; the softening of his smile as he pressed a light kiss to her knuckles, that he kept her eyes as he did so and then the humor as his smile went just a bit crooked. He'd didn't seem the type to be frivolous with his expressions and Gwen filed away the little compliment he'd paid her in sharing such things for later contemplation.

All this noted in a few moments, Gwen smiled up at him, eyes twinkling with humor of her own as she said, "I can't say 'dullness' has ever been a word ascribed to me, so I do believe it's safe to bet that we'll not be bored next time we meet." Her lids went heavy then, eyes just a bit darker. "Though 'safe' isn't a word that has often been used to describe me either."

"I should hope not, or I'd have to ask whether the speaker had ever actually met you, on both counts, but decidedly the latter," Tristan decided, the smirk that had been threatening to form taking lead of his features. He watched her eyes slide to something deeper and held their contact, observing the thoughts she was allowing to play across her face. Not described as 'safe' indeed; it was a bit like seeing how many candles would burn at once before the sheer mass of heat started melting them from the outside in. The thought tried to shift something in his own gaze and he damped it immediately, blinking once as if the motion would wipe the photonegative from the back of his eyes. "It would be a jarring non-sequitur, as well, after the image of your hands running along a sword blade."

Gwen's interest piqued as she watched some thought play through him in a moment of time, gone when he willed whatever it was away, and her lips slipped back into a small quirk, amused at his words. "Indeed. Though I still think the idea has merit, if only to see if one could do it without a prick of blood." She had a thought then, of what a prick of blood would look like against the paleness of her skin and dismissed the vision a moment later, as letting it out fully was something she was sure should be done alone.

Her eyes focused in on him again as she said, "Tristan, it's been lovely dancing with you, most especially talking with you, but I feel that I must go now so I can remember this evening as one of pure enjoyment for the way it ended." And to tame any thoughts that may leak fire everywhere. She leaned forward then, ghosting a kiss across his cheek, not quite touching and murmured, "Do have a good night, and think of me if you're wanting for company." With that, she stepped back and disappeared into the crowd.


SUMMARY: Gwen and Tristan meet at a party and find they have a common understanding (aka: Fire and air meet. Chemistry happens.).