With Morality Like a Polynomial

Cause I Was Only A Kid When I Fell- II

"no."

He smiled kindly, "we're the charity invites. The diversity wins."

M'Gann still didn't understand, "what?"

Cyrus sighed, "this party is being held by the top moguls of the fashion industry, the kind of people who hold my career in their fists. For years the world of couture has been controlled by a supremist majority, but today they're called out for it," he shrugged, "Melanie is a woman of colour in an industry that demonises that. and I am Irish," he tilted his head to better see a detail in the image, "and also a very gay trans man."

M'Gann nodded slowly, "uh, right, and so you're-"

"we're here so the socialites your boss funds can look less prejudiced."

"oh."

"mmm," Cyrus hummed, "oh."

"I don't actually know much about this industry."

"well, don't start by watching Devil Wears Prada and you should be fine." Cyrus began walking further down the hall and M'Gann followed along, "are you here for networking?"

"pardon?"

"did someone ask you to speak with me so you could network, get an in, make a pitch?"

"uh, no, I just..." M'Gann shrugged, "it's very loud in the ballroom."

"you're new to this."

"a little."

Cyrus huffed, "okay, there's a room..." he turned, looking down the hall, walking over to a doorway and peeking in, "not this one..." he walked further down and opened another room, "ah, here it is."

"what?"

"I get anxiety attacks at big functions," Cyrus admitted, "so any time I go to a new place for parties I have the people who work for me find me places I can hide."

M'Gann followed him into the room, finding it was what appeared to be a guest bedroom. Considering the apparent age of the building M'Gann figured it may have even once been 'servant's quarters'. There was a bed against the left wall, doors to a wardrobe and ensuite on the right and a desk against the far wall.

"I think someone needs to catch you up to speed on this world, because you may not be working in this industry but Queen Bee seems devoted to it so you're gonna be stuck in this for a while." Cyrus loosened his tie and flopped onto a couch sitting at the foot of the bed, "okay, so, gonna start with Charles Frederick Worth. How are you on 19th century history?"

"uh," M'Gann frowned, sitting on an ottoman in front of the wardrobe.

"Oh jeez this'll be fun." He sat up and-

His head exploded, blood spraying across the couch he was sitting on, his torso slumping into the pillows.

M'Gann was frozen for a second as she failed to process that.

The bang was ringing in her ears still when she launched to her feet, running over to see if she'd actually just seen-

Yes. She was not hallucinating. Blood was pouring out of a bullet wound in the side of Cyrus' head. His eyes were still open, not even appearing shocked. He hadn't had a chance to hear the sound of the bullet before it tore through his skull. M'Gann flinched away as she made eye contact with the blank look on his face, the emptiness.

She realised belatedly, that the sniper was probably still in range.

She dived behind the bed in the nick of time. Another bullet shot through the air and tore the carpet.