A figure across the room outlined in the dark by city lights beyond the expansive window. Swirling ice cubes a glint of gold at the wrist flicks across the room - the rumored gift from royalty. A slight turn of the head toward the door ajar not able to keep out the sounds of frivolity beyond, satisfied smile, confident strides, and the door is pulled open bathing the leather and inlaid room in chandelier light, bright tones, and cigar smoke. Even in the chaos all eyes are drawn magnetically to the figure in the doorway some delighted, some tinged with envy, some burning with something like desire, and some made shy. Famously good-looking, undeniably desirable, and eternally mysterious the figure moves through the sea of eyes as they return to their distractions. It's then you notice an impossibly perfect, remarkable piece of jewelry. The thing you've been told of in jealous whispers; the consummate token of perfection achieved by the world's greatest craftsmen. Reports of its acquisition swirled like ice cubes in the glass dying down only when the rumored regalia did not make a debut. Here, now, it is there for all to see - this symbol of status, connection, and enigmatic power.
A gift? Jewelry from an exotic lover? A noble heirloom? Purchased at some unknown price? A commissioned piece? There would never be answers. The mysteries would never be cleared. Such is the way of the truly exotic.
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