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"Not disposed to idle chatter? How unlike the rest of the Court." She plays her fingers along the plunging neckline of her dress and you do your best to ignore it. "I wanted to invite you to my latest exhibit tomorrow evening. I know that there's a distinct lack of notice on my part, but what is art without spontaneity? Besides, I think we've all had our fill of dreary topics—Anarchs, petty squabbles, crucifixion, blah, blah, blah. Everyone who's anyone is going to be there."

She's already drifting off to reel in another invitee. "Don't be left out in the rain, Mekuztli! Social capital is king!"

You hear Qui call out for another interviewee from the side room—it looks like he's not quite done yet. There should be enough time for one last conversation.

By the time you reach your sire she has already left the lectern and retreated to a small refreshment table covered tastefully in white lace. She turns to watch your approach while gently spinning a crystal champagne flute filled halfway with crimson liquid. "I must say," she remarks, "that your sister chose a remarkable meal for the evening, considering her time constraints. Daughter of a local Cabinet Minister, I believe—a distinctly sanguine flavor. Lucca has developed quite a knack for acquiring just the right mortals. We have three or four of them in the back. "On tap," as it were." She proffers you a glass which you gladly take. You hadn't realized how hungry you were until you were close enough to smell the tantalizing aroma.

"Thank you," you say.

"Thank your sister." Corliss pauses to scan the crowd before speaking again. "What is your take on this business, Mekuztli? You saw these events with your own eyes. I believe you made the right choice by accompanying the Sheriff and your little friend, though I do wish you'd been able to send me word before the council was called. Let me be blunt." She lowers her voice. "Do you believe Vivian is telling the whole truth?"