Blake Owen stepped through the door, dressed tall in a regal looking commodore's uniform, fitted with identical chevrons on each side and a few well-polished metals across the chest. He removed his hat and handed his overcoat to a nearby servant.
Veteran pilots knew where the action was going to be, a sixth sense that developed over time and in combat patrols. The sense seemed to carry over into other areas of a pilot's life. Blake made up his mind to introduce himself to the other partygoers and wish Miss Lafiel a happy birthday. He also heard some Libertonians were in attendance and he hoped to chat about recent house developments. However, he would soon be heading to the Mansion's annex, where his senses told him there would be plenty to do.