The Red Room is, like the name implies, red. Crimson carpet covers the floor, running from one dark paneled wall to the other. The walls themselves look like natural wood, rough and textured. They match the tables and the bar, though the fixtures are lacquered to a glossy finish. The texture is clearly visible under the clear shellac, but the
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"Hello," he says, deciding against asking if they knew eachother, it would just sound like a line, "Would you care to dance?"
((omgyay! Jon/Phoebeness! I think this happens before Cole shows up with Phale right? Jon's wearing a tux and a mask by the way)
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[[OOC: OMG YAY!!!! Yes, this happens before the talk with Phale and Cole]]
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Though... he's almost certain he's met her before.
"Don't think for a second I'm doing something as tacky as coming on to you, but have we met before? I can't help but feel like I know you from somewhere," he asks.
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"Did you go to a high school called Fandom High?"
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They'd all watched her closely, trying to gauge just how much pull she'd had over Bel... but that was a long time ago now.
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Smiling his most charming smile he looks back into her eyes, "So what have you been up to since high school?" he asks.
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She lifts her head and smiles. "Trying to stay alive, fighting for people that can't protect themselvesd, dealing with demnic bounty hunters." She grins at Jon. "You know, the usual."
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Unspoken is his curiosity as to how this all meshes with her life with Cole. Cole, not Belthazor, did he switch sides? Was he faking? And why did Phoebe feel so... familiar. He didn't know her well enough back at school to account for the complete familiarity her had with her.
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She shrugs at Jonathan. "Sacred duty and all that... using my Grace to help those that need it or sharing it with those that can benefit."
Phoebe is enjoying talking to Jonathan, but she's a bit confused as she could swear there's something abut Jon... a closeness that she doesn't understand. They hadn't known each other very well before he had left, but he seems... known to her.
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She's pleasant, polite, beautiful. He has nothing against her as a person but... this feeling or sameness, of knowing her, it's annoying.
A mis-step on his part on the next turn around the floor causes her to have to shift her hands, in order to keep their rythym and forward movement. The shift causes her palm to glide over his hip, directly over his odegra. A bright warmth sings through him at the touch, not the ecstasy of Crowley's touch to his mark, but a response similar. Like reaching out and acknowledging like.
He looks into her eyes, uncertain as to what just happened, how she could do that.
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"I think... we should probably talk," she says, still slightly confused. She looks around. "Gardens? Private office? Something?"
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