Farren rolled her eyes. Pyxis loved the ego stroking of the French designer. He seemed less aware that the man had ulterior motives that were less than honorable. It was something Pyxis seemed happy to ignore for personal gratification. Pierre fawned over her as well, as did most prominent designers, so she was less than impressed with his affinity for Pyxis and annoyed by his obsession with flaunting it. Her cousin was extremely attractive and could get attention from anyone if he would allow it. Why he was so hung up on one fashion designer was baffling to her.
She downed her champagne as he boasted and then launched into his familiar life plan to join the Confederation. She had no doubt he could make it if he wanted, Ministry experience aside. "As if you need that boring job to get there," she scoffed before tilting her glass back. "Can't your mother's parents do something about it? Surely between them and asking a favor from Grandfather you could scrape together at least a seat on the Wizengamot and that would accelerate your career out of the dulldrums into something worthy of your charms?" Smirking she turned to him, her crystal flute resting lazily between her fingers, "Or you could see how modeling for Pierre boosts your international political ambitions."
"Of course I haven't said that in front of her. I can't admit that to her, she already prefers you over me most of the time." Scowling she glanced at his hand as he tapped her chair. It was true, they joked about it often, how enraptured her mother was with her cousin but it wasn't something she liked to dwell on. Pyxis was the golden boy her mother had never been able to birth. Obedient to his seniors within the family, decidedly political, and extremely likeable. Her mum saw him as the perfect pawn whereas she was the more flawed albeit larger jewel in the family crown.
Thankfully Pyxis was quick to move on from her mention of Declan. It was clear that he knew she was withholding details but he was nice enough to not press her. Of course there was more she could tell him but for now she wasn't quite ready to talk about her little secret. Instead he chose another difficult topic. Her mother and the new, shadowy, Lord Voldemort. She sighed, Pyxis knew her mother was extremely political. Of course he knew that her mother and Grandmother were familiar with Tom Riddle who was now fashioning himself as Lord Voldemort. It was a sensitive subject in their family. As political as they were there was a clear line in what was acceptable - violence was discouraged.
She had met Tom Riddle years ago now in Vienna. He had been touring Europe or some such thing and knowing her Grandmother had been invited to their townhouse for tea twice. Farren had found him odd, extremely odd, he spoke like a poet his voice smooth and soothing but there was something off. His countenance was so erie. She could never put her finger on it though. Years later his name had come up again not at the Abercrombie household but at the Rosier family table. The Rosiers had already aligned themselves politically with this Tom Riddle who had fashioned himself a new name. Even her husband, Clive, who was a simple man more concerned with being the most famous quidditch player in the world than anything political had been caught up with his rise to prominence in the pureblood community. Though her father in law had never said the words exactly he had made it clear that Clive's death had in fact been related to this Tom Riddle man and his political movement. The story of flying off the coast and into an accident was entirely fabricated, a farce they'd agreed to, something Farren's influence in media as an Abercrombie was easy to keep as the only story on Clive's death.
"I try to avoid the topic with her but I am fairly sure she is already involved, Grandmother as well. Grandmother has known him for years. The Rosiers as well....you know that. Why? Is it causing a stir in the Ministry already?"