Florida in February should be as foreign as all of this feels, but a freak ice storm has the reception feeling far more New England than anyone feels comfortable admitting. Will Graham and his new wife appear impervious to the grumbling of their guests, all gathered in various stages of freezing.
Alana is feeling — she doesn’t know what she is feeling. She answered the invitation as a matter of course, mentally acknowledging that the experience was sure to pull memories to the surface that she’d barely laid to rest. She doesn’t particularly want to talk to anyone, and is taking her sweet time with a slice of wedding cake.
"Hell of a wedding," comes a cool voice to her left, and Alana grows very quickly alert to the fact that she’s stopped noticing those around her. Margot Verger, though, is not exactly cause for alarm. She is slim, and gorgeous as ever, hair done up and coat around her shoulders leaving her muscled arms bare. "My flight’s cancelled. Yours?"
"Hell of an after party," Alana acknowledges, and offers Margot the bite of cake on her fork.
Margot takes the fork and swallows thoughtfully. “A long one, at least.” She draws a flask from her coat pocket. “Shorter, with booze. And yes, I’m sharing.”