"Well, good: that is rather the intention," Mina teases warmly. (She feels almost girlish again: that's surprising.) "I have something of a fanbase, my beloved, and I would so loathe to disappoint."

She tucks her handbag over one shoulder and takes up her cane again. Unseeing, she misses the offered hand and takes a moment to re-orient herself in the room with the pattern of the ceiling lights. A careful, light sweep of the cane taps one of his feet, revealing his nearness to her and she half-turns her head towards him. "Believe me, I'd skip the reception if it wouldn't be intolerably rude."