Scene: The end of the Gala

Looking back on it, the answer should have been obvious. He had that fake kind of air to him. The kind where his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Where his laugh, while sounding normal, felt like nails on a chalkboard. He’d say lots of coherent, intelligent words- the kind where you smile and nod and think you’re listening to Socrates philosophize- but when you thought back to them they didn’t seem to culminate any real meaning. He spoke without communicating. He heard without listening. His presence made her nervous. The kind of nervous a rabbit feels, hiding under a bush, as a wolf stalks the perimeter, sniffing right near her feet. He was the kind of man that possessed so much power, he could do whatever he wanted, and no one would be able to do a thing about it. Nobody should have that much power, should they?
“Are you ready?” he swing his head around to face her, and she had an eerie thought that his neck was longer than it should be- like that of a vulture. Wrinkled, ugly, inhuman. She blinked, and his form returned to the same elegant human neck rising from the shoulders and collar of his tuxedo. He smiled at her with straight, white teeth, the skin of his cheeks folding pleasantly to transform the bottom half of his face into the beautiful stereotypical white male businessman’s. His eyes burned into her. There were no folds around his eyes. They remained accusing, resting comfortably over his raised cheeks, expecting the correct answer. How can someone smile so convincingly with only the bottom half of their face? Recovering, not quickly enough, from the startling realization that now she was the center of his attention, she opened her mouth for the first time all night.
“Yes sir,” was all she could muster. That seemed to please him. He closed his mouth, still smiling, gave a brief nod to her, and turned back to his colleagues.
“Well gentlemen it’s been a treat. I appreciate you all coming tonight. It was great to see you and catch up some. Tell Leanna I say hello, and I’ll circle back with you on Monday to discuss the Bowers account.” The suits surrounding him nodded their heads, like so many bobble heads, completely under his control. He shook all of their hands, then slid his palm across the small of her back, guiding her out of the gala, and into the snowy street.