Having noted Benedict's approach, Atticus turns away from him and goes about refilling his goblet of wine. This wouldn't be perceived as a slight; he's been introduced to his future protégé already (enough to know that fortifying his flagging patience with alcohol is prerequisite for dealing with him).
It's his wife who greets Benedict first, granting him a clear smile that manages to be genuine without quite reaching her eyes. "I didn't realize this was going to be that kind of party. I hope we aren't distracting you from your guests." Her eyes travel past Benedict to the slighted young woman who fumes at the back of his head, looking a hair's breadth away from throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of the gala.
"I'll dance with her," Octavius hopefully volunteers.
"You will not," Atticus counters. While his son scowls, the magister turns back to greet his latest apprentice properly, inclining his head in a nod. "Good evening, Benedict."
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It's his wife who greets Benedict first, granting him a clear smile that manages to be genuine without quite reaching her eyes. "I didn't realize this was going to be that kind of party. I hope we aren't distracting you from your guests." Her eyes travel past Benedict to the slighted young woman who fumes at the back of his head, looking a hair's breadth away from throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of the gala.
"I'll dance with her," Octavius hopefully volunteers.
"You will not," Atticus counters. While his son scowls, the magister turns back to greet his latest apprentice properly, inclining his head in a nod. "Good evening, Benedict."