Powerful families run in the same circles, and bit by bit her face starts to come into place. He saw her at parties when she was young. They were among the children occasionally shuffled off to playrooms while their parents rubbed elbows and discussed politics and each other and the dreadful state of the Districts. Jason was always a bit of a solitary kid, lingering around his siblings but rarely engaging, except during his odd business ventures with the Patterson kid.

She's not that much younger than him, and her first name eludes him, but her last one comes to mind. Doyle. He holds his hand out to shake.

"Jason Compson. My father was a Jason Compson too. My mother was a Bascomb, too, if that jogs your memory any."

Neither of those surnames carries the same weight it did once upon a time, and something inside Jason tenses up, as if waiting for Sadie to dredge up the old scandal that cast the Compsons from the realm of respectable, reputable, influential families into the laughingstock of the Capitol.

"I think- it must have been nearly twenty-five years ago now- I think we met before, at a party at the Reagans. They had an ice sculpture of an elephant that my older brother climbed up on, and when he fell off they took him away in an ambulance."

[OOC: Here's Jason's, if it helps!]