Clara maneuvered herself to Vivian's side with a quick step and wave to Taft. "Bonsoir, Priscus Taft! I hope you wouldn't steal such a beauty from my side without the courtesy of a hello and petit papotage." Clara felt compelled into the fray by York and, when called upon, wilting might well be a political death sentence. A bit of boldness and even cheek served to put on a brave face and maybe even entertain older vampires with ice in their dead hearts. Clara toyed with the hem of her tight dress absentmindedly and pulled the tight fabric down a little just past her mid-thigh. As if anyone here were interested in legs that weren't for biting.
Smiling like the cat that ate the canary, Clara suddenly found herself wishing she had a wine glass. Props gave her something other than Kindred ego to play with. "Well, Priscus Taft? Not used to dancing with more than one partner or...dancing at all?"