Princes knew how to throw parties. How exactly each of them were there was an issue for another day; Jim had connections just about everywhere across the world and the prince had made a very specific point of giving him an invitation hand delivered by one of his personal guard. Hardly a first, but it wasn't his style to turn his nose up at a ball that meant for mingling with the right sort of crowd.

He arrived that night with all the bells and whistles; Alexander McQueen suit and tie, custom made Italian leather shoes, cuff links and tie pin all in place. He wore the fox accents tonight, despite his need to not quite play the role; tonight was a night to make possible friends and assess the atmo, not stalk and prey on possible victims. He welcomed the change of pace to be sure, but this wasn't a den filled with the ordinary sort of people he dealt with for the most part in London. No, this was a den full of would-be wolves and he was a fox in their midst; best to hide behind a more humble decorum if he's to survive the night without new foes trailing at his heels.

The was quite the buzz about the arrival of one Miss Irene Adler. She was a thing of legend among the middle eastern dignitaries he mingled with for the first portion of the night, though many of them were put off by approaching her and refused to make the first move. But whispers and secrets told the story of a woman much more clever than the men fawning over her classic beauty (which he appreciated thoroughly to be sure) so he feigned the devouring of liquid courage (he'd never need it to approach anyone) and approached the fabled Woman with an outstretched arm.

"Would you do me the honor, Miss Adler."