Ari Two: not a bartender.
May 2, 2424
1528h
Maybe, she still thought, she should have been a little less aggressive, and a little more cautious. Justin wouldn't turn down her invitation, if his father was going. She was relatively sure of that: he'd be there partly out of unbearable curiosity, partly to be there to fling himself between his father and a bullet, so to speak -- or literally. Jordan would be there out of pure curiosity, and because he wanted to hear what calumnies his son would say about him -- she'd bet on that, even more than she'd bet on Justin.
So she sent an invitation to Jordan that said dinner at 1800h. And one to Justin that said 1830. Justin would turn up five minutes early because he worried about being late. Jordan was guaranteed to be at least a quarter of an hour late, just to prove he could be. She bet on that, too.
Her staff was not happy with the arrangement. Wes and Marco were taking the security station, Florian and Catlin were dining early, to be actually on duty in the dining room. Gianni, their pro tem cook, was in a state, and dented one of their pots. The unprecedented clang set off house alarms and scrambled her security to alert.
But she dressed in silvery satin, her current favorite gown, and her hairdresser did her hair in a modern way, nothing at all like the first Ari in the portraits. It was her coming-out, like in the old stories, though not for a ballroom of people -- just two. She wore her hair upswept, wore a single diamond, a modest one, and her rings, several, and had the servers light the candles the very instant Jordan turned up in the hall -- no way could he look at a quarter of an hour's candle-melt and feel smug in being late.
Marco showed her first guests into the hall and took their coats ... precisely at 1816h. Ari met him just outside the dining room.
"Jordan Warrick," she said in her nicest, warmest tone, and offered her hand. "I'm so glad you've come. Paul." That for the quiet, handsome man who shadowed him.
"Ariane." Jordan took her hand, a chilly and unenthusiastic grip, and what he was seeing, or remembering in that moment, there was no telling: certain things weren't in the first Ari's records, lost, lost except for this man's memory. "Is my son here?"
"Soon, I'm sure. Would you like a drink?" Service staff was hovering just inside. And Catlin moved in, very deftly, to cut Paul off with conversation and steer him aside.
"You always made a good vodka Collins."
"I don't." She flashed her brightest grin, and signaled staff. "I haven't the least idea how. A Collins, Callie. Paul?" She glanced over her shoulder. "What will you have?"
"Wine, sera, white."
"Wine for me, too. I had my juvie fling with hard liquor. It does my head no favors. I'm so glad you came, Jordan."
What are you up to? was likely the question he burned to ask her. He didn't. "Invitations are rare. I'm a little out of the social circuit these days."
"Well, there hasn't been much social circuit lately, not since Denys died. It's all been too grim here. Guards everywhere. Locked doors. Minders on high alert. But that's changing. I'll imagine a lot of things have changed."
"Some have. Some haven't."
"Oh, Catlin, do entertain Paul. I'm aching to talk to Jordan a moment. Jordan, do come into the dining room. Please." She snagged his arm, moved him, solo, the two further steps through that doorway. "I'm so curious about you," she said brightly. He was warm, and smelled like Justin. "There aren't many people in my acquaintance who really remember from way back, way back when everything was starting up in Reseune."
An eyebrow lifted as she let go his arm. He looked at her, just like Justin. "I'm not that old."
"But you did actually meet my sort-of grandmother."
"I did."
"Was she really the bitch everybody says she was?"
That got a little flare of the pupils, and an immediately suspicious shutdown, no laughter at all. "I never knew her personally. But she was reputed to be that. And passed the trait on."
She took that with a silent laugh. And just then Callie showed up with the drinks, damn her timing, but she took hers and let Jordan take his own. "I know about your feud with the first Ari. Two very bright people trying to work together. Two people who each had to run things."
That didn't sit totally well. "You could say so."
"She valued you, though, as the most brilliant designer in Reseune, right along with her. She couldn't get along with you, you weren't in the same field, exactly, but she did respect you."
"The hell."
"I have her notes. She also warned me you were pigheaded." Sip of wine. Jordan hadn't touched his Collins. "Is it all right?"
"What?"
"The drink. Did Callie do it right?"
Jordan just looked at her.
"You surely," she said, "can't think I'd pull something as silly as that."
"You did on my son."
Wide eyes. "What did I do?"
"You know what your predecessor did."
Lowered lashes, a nod to the correction. "I know what she did. I'm sorry for that."
"Of course you are."
(_Regenesis_, bk 1 section 3 ch 4)