PROBLEM - Anthony Lockwood

CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT

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lxviii

introducing the mandatory dance scene of every teen show (or fanfic in this case)

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IT WAS HUGE.

Alice's eyes widened as she walked into the Hall of the Fittes building, standing on the steps and overlooking the dozens of well-dressed people that milled around and spoke below.

There was a low mumur of music flowing through the air also, but Alice couldn't tell where it was coming from.

Lockwood spied the look on her face, smirking slightly. He looked as if he were glowing, the proud aura about him manifesting tenfold. Alice could tell that he thrived in situations like this.

Lockwood held an arm out for her. Alice smiled, taking it.

As they decended the steps, they looked an interesting pair. With Lockwood in his sleek suit and Alice in her flowing dress. Neither of them were dressed overtly extravangtly, but perhaps it was the way they walked or the way they held themselves that made people turn their heads.

'You make a good Jemima and Imran,' Fairfax had said, all those weeks ago now.

Alice hated the man but didn't doubt him.

Waiters came around with trays of champagne, and each of them took one. Alice didn't let go of Lockwood's arm as she looked around, her eyes falling on the walls. "Gods, are those sources?"

Lockwood chuckled, "Ah, the famous relic columns. Penelope has never let danger or good taste get in the way of her showing off her family's famous legacy."

Alice rolled her eyes. "Family isn't everything."

Witches and spirits treat you like royalty, shut up.

Alice dearly hoped the relics would stay in the columns and not implore her to join them.

"Speak of the devil," Lockwood mused, looking up to see Penelope Fittes and some others standing on the upper level and looking down at the partygoers.

"The Fiend in the flesh," Alice whispered back, turning around so that she wouldn't see her.

Lockwood waved.

Alice grabbed his hand, pulling it down. "What do you think you're doing?"

Lockwood laughed, "What's the matter? She's just the same as everyone else, like you and me."

Alice rolled her eyes, scoffing lightly, "I sleep in a loft and grew up on a hill in the woods."

"Like me then," Lockwood corrected. He let his playful smile die down as he looked at her for a moment. "Do you want to meet some people, mingle? Make it look like we actually came to party."

Alice smiled, nodding, "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

Lockwood grinned, "Great." He took her arm, and they diposited the champagne, taking a turn about the rooms.

"It's so fancy," Alice whispered in awe.

"Welcome to civilisation," Lockwood joked.

Alice chuckled.

"Mr Lockwood?"

They turned to see a group of well-dressed people, perhaps four of them, standing in a huddle, talking. They looked to be in their thirties, all in sleek dresses and crisp suits.

Lockwood smiled, shaking the hand of the man that had called him over. "Alice, this is Mark Ridley, who oversees 20 Fenchurch Street."

Alice, though she didn't know what the building was, smiled and shook the man's hand also, "Alice Dorsett, it's a pleasure to meet you."