She is, isn't she. And, judging by the smug expression when they sweep out onto the ground floor, rather proud of it. A slim arm winds its way around Clark's sturdier one as they enter into one of the two rooms set aside for this private gala, and Eirene sneaks into place at the back of the food line seconds before she's set on again.

"Eirene."

She freezes, eyes locked on the tall, dark, and annoyingly handsome man.

"Ares."