Scanning the room, Elizabeth looked for a red sash or necktie on any of themen… Booker loved that red sash around his neck, and she was counting on that. Drumming her fingers of her free hand on the champagne glass, Elizabeth answered the woman.

“Oh, I never had a date,” she chuckled and hoped that would comfort the blonde. After all, alcohol certainly wouldn’t. “Who could stand up such a charming woman as yourself?”

She counted five men so far with red neckties. Two were dancing with women and Elizabeth had never seen Booker so much as flirt with a woman since… Well, likely just before she was born. They weren’t him.

“Andrew Ryan,” the woman said, wistful and tender all at once, and picked up another glass. “Supposedly the man who loves me.”

“I’m sorry,” she caught herself and smiled. “I’m Diane. Diane McClintock.”

Only one of the men she counted stood with a shorter, leaner man at his side, both in suits… One black, one white. But she would have to get closer to see. And yet in front of her stood a valuable contact in Rapture who seriously needed a good friend. Someone she could n trust. Perhaps tell her secrets to.

Diane offered her hand and a sad smile.

The New Year’s party.

Elizabeth smiled, reaching for the bird necklace under her collar. Jack had never seen anything like a party. With all the time he spent with Booker, it’d be a simple undertaking to convince Booker to take him there. But at least it was just a party, where the greatest threat was a bad appetizer and small talk.

Or in this case, political tension… But she didn’t want to dwell on that.

Still, she fought the urge to toy with the stub of her pinky. That was easy with Suchong around since he liked to ask what caused it, but here…? Elizabeth kept her eyes ahead and strode through the mostly empty halls towards the Welcome Center to the Kashmir restaurant.

At the front, a guard waited but there was no one else for security in sight. Safety ruined the atmosphere of Ryan’s strength, she guessed.

“Ma’am,” the guard said, adjusting his stance and offering yet another mask. “For the party.”

She wrapped her fingers around the edge of the cat mask, nodding. “Thank you.” This was going to complicate it for her, although it explained why it was easy for Booker and Jack. With masks and suits, they’d look like everyone else.

She tied the mask’s strings behind her head and slipped into the crowd. Smooth jazz played on the speakers and streamers hung loosely from support beams overhead. But no Booker or Jack immediately apparent, and she couldn’t very well shout their names.

She stopped by a table of little snacks and drinks, picking up a glass. Elizabeth had to blend in even if she had no intention of drinking tonight.

“Hello,” a hollow voice greeted her, and Elizabeth turned to see a blonde woman in a butterfly mask.

“Did your date stand you up too?” She laughed drily, swishing her wine and downing the glass.