Take his suggestion

James bustles off towards the drinks cabinet to prepare you something he calls a “fiendish rascal”. You take a seat next to Rebecca. Conversation is returning. The mild disturbance of your entry is swiftly becoming a memory.

“Of course, she'll have slept with the judges,” says Lucy.

“You can't say that!” snaps Rebecca. Sebastian smiles wanly.

“I did when I won the national creativity award. At least, I fucked the crucial vote. Don't look like that,” she adds, addressing Rebecca. “I fucked you too, didn't I?”

There's an awkward pause, but Sebastian ends it by changing the subject.

“You did that aleatoric fire-dance thing, didn't you, Dawes-Head?”

At last. People are talking about you.

“Pretty nifty stuff if you ask me,” he continues. “If Jen Crawford wasn't in competition I daresay you'd have left the rest of us in the lurch.”

You laugh and play down the compliment. You want more, but you do have some grace. “Your magic wax tablet routine was stunning,” you say, trying to remember something specific to have liked about it. You fail. “It reminded me of Toscano at his best,” you finish weakly.

“Maybe too much.” Sebastian smiles.

“You can call me Alex, by the way!”

“I'm Sebastian. These are Rebecca,"—she turns to you and smiles quickly before looking away, still embarassed—“and Lucy. Multidisciplinary art's most beautiful cordial ex-couple. Of course, I'm in most of the art world's most beautiful messy ex-couples. And ex-throuples.”

James interrupts as he brings through his concoction. It's bright pink. “I swear it's good,” he says, handing it to you.