It has been, perhaps, half a watch since the first royals arrived at the ball, the drink is flowing and the laughter is just a bit louder than it was earlier.  With the people and the candles, the room seems warm.
            It is one of those moments when the music and the conversation have hit a lull.  At the far end of the room, the leader of the orchestra has his bow up, ready to start the next song, when he notices that half his ensemble are looking at the entryway.  Revelers stop dead in doorways, making those behind them come up short.  Even the exotic birds caged in niches along the walls are strangely silent.
            If the man and the woman who appear in the doorway were...taller, or if the woman was looking at the crowd, or if ... something!  If any of those things were true, then it would be a moment of high drama.  Still, there is something magnetic about the pair.  It is not that they are *larger than life*,  but that they are *more dense.*
            Random leads Vialle into the room, nodding and smiling as they promenade across the room.  It is a slow processional, and he makes an effort to meet eyes, but neither stops nor seems inclined to make conversation.
            Random is dressed as a fantasy Sultan, draped in golden silks and arrays of jewels and wearing a turban with a tremendous peacock feather.  He has the presence to carry it well.  He carries a scepter and a red-gold sphere.
            Beside him Vialle is his complement, emeralds and sapphires to his rubies and diamonds.  She is diaphanously veiled, and the sheer, transparent silk is like a current of water floating freely in front of her.  She holds his arm and matches him step for step.
            She is, if it has not been noted before, beautiful.
            The pair reaches the far end and come up to the bandstand and turn.  Vialle unnecessarily claps three times, the sound echoing through the room.  It breaks the hush and many in the crowd remember to breathe again.  "The Emperor is pleased with your attendance at his entertainment.  Let the dancing begin."
            The musicians, to their credit, begin making dance-music almost immediately and people begin choosing partners.  As they leave towards the champagne fountain, Random can be seen bumming a cigarette from a musician who, in all fairness, really can't finish it before the set starts.

Brennan and Cambina share the first dance.  Thus, the Fox dances with the Moon.
            Viewers should note that Brennan is (surprisingly or not, depending on one's preconceptions) a fairly good dancer.  It is not his passion in life or his devoted hobby-- he is not the Barenthkov or Lord Rein of dancing.  But the bodily awareness that gives him his ordinary lazy grace transforms quickly into an effortless grace once he's learned the steps.  And as with most physical skills, he's a quick study.  
            He is not, however, a showboat.

Fiona also watches the entrance of the King and Queen. When the dancing begins, she turns to her companion with an inquiring look, but does not press the matter at the Viking lord's obvious lack of inclination to lead her out among the dancers.
            Perhaps having seen the direction of her gaze, Prince Julian arrives at his sister's side after a moment. "Would you care to dance, sister?" he asks.
            "I would, brother," Fiona replies, almost falling into the rhythm of Julian's speech.
            Julian offers Fiona his arm and leads her out among the dancers.

Jerod looks over at Llewella for a moment.  "I hope I'm not interrupting anything but I was wondering if I might abscond with you for a moment, Auntie?" and he looks back at Kaia, offering a smile that is both reasonably sincere and unaffected.

"If you promise never to call me 'Auntie' again, I shall allow you to escort me to the bar."  She smiles.  "Unless you prefer to dance?"

"I am of a mind for both." Jerod says.  "What ever you would prefer first."

"The dance floor, I believe.  I believe I remember how to do this on dry land."
            She lets Jerod lead her out and take the lead in the dance.  She is quite good -- athletic and rhythmic and responsive to Jerod's lead.  She is smiling, slightly.  It is hard to tell if she is a bit bored or enjoying herself a bit.

Jerod enjoys himself dancing and is very good at it - the advantage of a court education.  For him, it is nice to be able to dance with someone without having to worry about whether or not their parents have been scheming to get you married to their daughter because you're dancing with her - a refreshing change of pace.

"Everyone assumes we're either negotiating or conspiring on the matter of Rebma and Conner, of course.   What can I do for you, Jerod?"

"I was going to ask you about whether you could set aside a little time before we all vanish in the next couple of days, so we could conspire about Rebma and Conner." Jerod says with a smile.  "I'm not interested in doing that right now though.  It would spoil the fun I intend to have tonight."

"I was more interested in how you are doing.  It's been five years, at least for me."

"Well, it is vexatious that I can't go home.  I would be very interested in what you've found out about the whole Conner affair, but that can wait for less pleasant circumstances.  Will you be accompanying Corwin?"

"One way or the other." Jerod replies.  "It depends on whether the Grand Imperial Poobah decides to set me up for some work.  If he does, I'll have to figure out a polite way of ignoring his requests while getting out of town."

"If he hasn't told you by now, you may be safe.  He's been indicating that he's leaving tonight."

"The problem with a king though is that they can leave these things like orders and stuff behind." Jerod says.  "Though once he's outta the building its easier to ignore the orders.  I can head out with Corwin once he gets his party ready.  Are you going back?"

"Not immediately.  I have a few things I want to see to first."

"Anything in particular?" Jerod asks.

She smiles.  "You're so direct.  Just like your mother.  Small, personal things."

"I was always under the impression that came from dad." Jerod says.  "It's good to know they both had something in common." and he laughs a little.

She smiles.  "They were so alike I thought they would kill each other."

"One of grandmother's fondest wishes to be sure." Jerod replies dryly.  "It will prove quite interesting to see how she will respond now that Uncle Random is in charge up here.  I keep working on how to find some poor schmuck named Rosencrantz to act as messenger.  Which leads me to a question.  Since you're not going to be back very soon, is there any message you might want me to deliver when I arrive?  Grandmother is certain to ask after you."

"She is, isn't she?"  Llewella smiles.  "You may wish to ask the King the same question.  I am sure my sister will rapidly determine that I am not interested in being 'a poor schmuck named Rosencrantz', as you so prosaically put it.  If you arrive before I do, please send my regards and tell her that I come."

"Oh, somehow I'm quite certain that a message will arrive just prior to me leaving for Rebma indicating exactly what Random wants me to say." Jerod says, a slight grin on his face as he ponders whether or not to actually follow such a message.  "I'll just have to be sure to find some servant to shove into the line of fire before being announced back home.  But I promise to remember to tell her of your impending arrival if I do make it back first."
            For the remainder of the dance, Jerod's conversation remains light and unpolitical, in keeping with future developments.

Llewella completes the pleasant turn with Jerod and thanks him for the dance.

Thalia lets herself be swept onto the dance floor by Reid with a smile for the left-behind Conner.

Conner smiles back and lets Thalia be swept off with good humor.

She is polished and skilled as a diplomat would be, and she seems to have a strong sense of being on stage.  She lets Reid start the conversation if he wishes to.

Reid seems content just dancing, drawn to the music. His moves are old-fashioned, but he leads well.

Thalia is a graceful partner.  "You should visit gateway sometime, Prince Reid."

"I would very much like that. I'll admit, after some of my experiences, I'm a little leery of travel, but within the Golden Circle, things shouldn't be too bad. Perhaps when things have quieted down here I may be free to take some time off. Tell me, what do you miss most about your homeland?" Reid replies.

"The air is like wine, my lord, lush and subtle and flavorful.  Amber was the only place I ever visited that was anything like it."

"Not nearly so varied as Amber's, my lord, but more familiar to me and possessing a subtlety and depth which I know well."

"And the people?" Reid prods.

Conner takes the opportunity to approach one of the wallflowers and encourage her on to the dance floor.  Assuming a yes answer, he exchanges polite pleasantries and compliments her as they dance.

From her accent, the girl is from Garnath, and is almost overwhelmed to have the handsome, smiling Prince ask her to join him on the floor, much less offer her the pleasant courtesies a well-bred gentleman offers a young lady. Conner is quite certain he has made her evening.

When the dancing starts, Jovian's first belongs to Kourin, naturally.

Merlin doesn't quite know where he's supposed to go in order of precedence, but as he ends up somewhere among the family, a kind feminine voice--Solace, Lilly thinks--says, "with your father", and Merlin follows the advice.
            Since Merlin is behind Corwin, he and Lilly have a clear view of the lead dancers, Martin and Folly. He's very focused on Martin at first. It takes him a couple of figures to gain enough confidence in his dancing to attempt to speak to Lilly. He seems to know the steps, but perhaps this is different.

Lilly is patient and remembers to follow his lead. She is also content to let him have the first word. Small talk was not something she was particularly well suited for anyway.

"Have you danced much at court, cousin Lilly?" Merlin asks.

"I have been taught the steps but have seldom had chances to use that knowledge. I do enjoy it though. Dancing is not entirely unlike my normal exercise routines. Both involve precise movement and of course a sense of rhythm. Of all the things my foster mother tried to teach me, dance was perhaps the one I took to best." The words are accompanied with a smile that conveys Lilly's love for her foster mother and the fact that she misses her terribly.

"I can see the similarities between the exercise figures and the dance, yes," Merlin agrees. He adds, "I am afraid that I have never danced in public before. I am sorry if I am not appropriately proficient at it."

"Your technique is very good. Based on that alone I would consider you to be more than appropriately proficient especially considering the amount of experience you have had. It is a credit to your teacher." Lilly smiles gently to try to put Merlin at ease. He had a certain sweetness and awkwardness to him that she found quite charming.

"Thank you," says Merlin, brightening slightly. "Martin was my teacher. I am sure he will appreciate the compliment to his teaching, for there is little enough virtue in the student."

For a brief moment Lilly is distracted by the mental image of Martin teaching Merlin to dance. She knew there was a reason she liked the crown Prince. "I take it that you and Martin are friends as well as relations then? I knew you both had ties to Paige but a common friend is seldom reason enough for a friendship."

"Oh, I have known Martin as long as I can remember," says Merlin. "It was he who introduced me to Paige."

"I see."
            Lilly takes a moment to consider the most diplomatic approach to her next query. Her curiosity however was not very patient. Before her mind could sort out the best approach she was speaking, "May I ask why you seem to be so uncomfortable around my father?"

Merlin looks ahead for a moment, as if he's taking stock of the next step from Martin's dancing. After a moment, he says, "Someone disguised as your father attacked me recently. I know it must not have been he, for I am still alive. And my assailant had two hands, which your father no longer does. Still, it was--jarring--to see him in person this evening after someone wearing his face tried to kill me."

"I see." Lilly takes a moment to consider his words. "If you discover who or what your assailant was, I would be interested in that information. Consider it a matter or family honor." In truth it was something other. It was the girl's curiosity coming into play once again. All of Amber's enemies were familiar with her father after all. It interested her to know who felt his visage might be of use and their reasons for such a thing.

"I will do that," says Merlin.

As the King and Queen of all Reality glide into the crowded room, Robin watches with open curiosity.  After all, this is exactly the time and place for gawking.  Something she's avoided assiduously earlier, trying to at least minimize the 'savage from Arden'-ness of herself.  But now... the halted high society, the respectful giants of her kindred, the silence of the caged birds.  Strange.  Eerie even.  And something that makes her long all the more for the quiet understandable forests of her home.
            The girl's head cocks as Vialle claps and makes her announcement.  But she's not really sure what to make of it.  And then, the music starts.  Cold dread sleets down the girl's spine for a moment, before she pulls herself together.  It's okay, her father and her brother are here.  And she can too do this.  She has to.
            As Kourin and Jovian head for the dance floor for what Robin expects is an important dance, being the first one, she finds herself standing next to... Him.  In all his grey etherealness and fine careful phrasing.
            And again, waves of conflict wash through the Ranger.  The infernal desire to blush and stare at the floor or to... giggle!  Gaaah!  Giggle!?  Where did that come from?  Other flares, she's more used to, the 'grab him, take him' of her unfettered and uncivilized background.  But, but Robin suspects that... might not be a great idea, given the man and the situation.  And somehow, amazingly, it seems to her to be really, really important to get it right.
            So, in the end she fights back all the swells and the burns, and turns to Vere as calmly as she can.  "Do you know this dance, Vere?" she asks casually.  But her eyes flash and glimmer and Robin suspects at this point that she should have worn more concealing clothing.

Vere, who had been observing with concealed interest the various pairings taking place for the symbolically important first dance, turns to face Robin as she begins to speak.  "I do indeed know the dance, Lady Robin," he says.  "And I would be truly honoured and greatly pleased if you would care to partner me for it."  He lifts his right hand, palm up, and tilts his head questioningly.

It turns out that 'as calmly as she can' doesn't last very long.  Excitement and delight flare up in Robin with an almost audible 'fooomph.'  And a little wriggle of joy goes through her body, she got both a 'truly' and a 'greatly', woo-hoo!  The big happy smile that lights the girl's face as she lays her hand in Vere's is a beacon bright enough to bring sailors home on a stormy night.
            It occurs to the Ranger that there are probably some words that should occur in here somewhere, but she's once again in that place that doesn't have words.  So she nods, with enough zest to set the beads in her hair clicking gaily.

Once Random and Vialle arrive, and the music begins again, Martin takes an opportune moment between accepting congratulations from the Bellum charge d'affaires and greeting the next wealthy merchant to lean over and whisper, "Shall we dance?"

Folly, who has watched Random and Vialle's entrance with an expression that would be inscrutable even without the additional obfuscation of the mask, breaks into a smile and hooks her little finger around Martin's.  "Let's," she says.
            Must behave myself, she thinks.

Vere leads Robin to their place in the set without words, and as they wait for the musicians to begin he muses to himself, just loud enough for Robin to hear, "Now how does this go exactly, ah yes, I remember..." and proceeds to quickly describe the dance, allowing himself to make quick miniature versions of the steps as he describes hem.  To anyone watching it would look as if he were simply going over the dance quickly as an aid to his own memory.

A delighted chuckle shakes the Huntress as she carefully watches her partner's footwork.  Quickly, she clamps a hand over her mouth before the dreaded giggle can emerge, but her eyes are twinkling with merriment.
            And gratitude.  That Vere could forget anything... no one who knew him would believe that for an instance.  But the gesture is so sweet.  
Robin's so light that she doesn't even notice the spin-flourish she puts on the bow as she tucks it back over one shoulder and through her girdle.  As unconscious and expert as return of katana to its sheath or the twirl of a six-gun back to its holster.
            And as free.  As Robin *listens* and *sees* -- for a moment -- the weight of eyes and walls is gone.  And there is only Vere and herself.

Folly has been eagerly anticipating dancing with Martin again -- it's been a while, what with his missing the Regency masque due to being lost in a time-warp.  Her joy is evident in her movements.

Martin leads Folly out among the lines of dancers, who somehow organize themselves according to precedence even though no one knows who anyone else is, officially.  He is about to fall into his place as the son of the youngest of the Princes when Julian meets his gaze, arching an eyebrow. Martin pauses for a moment, and Folly can feel the sudden tension in his grip. Then the moment passes, and he leads her to the head of the line instead, where he steps into the place reserved for the King's son and his lady.

This does not escape notice, though Jerod only nods to himself.

"Don't try stealing *my* place, Your Highness," Vere murmurs quietly to himself.

Folly shoots Martin a little half-smile as she glides to her place. On one hand, she's well-aware that they are onstage and is willing to put on a good show.  On the other, she's not about to let manners and artifice completely hijack her enjoyment of the evening, nor rob all the joy of dancing with her date.
            And so, for that first dance, she keeps her movements graceful and elegant, matching Martin, making him look good, outwardly appearing for all the world like a proper young lady dancing with the son of a king.
            But the minute details -- the sparkle in her eyes, the tiny smiles that occasionally pass between them as if at some private joke -- tell a different story to those few who are close enough, and paying enough attention, to notice.

When the dance begins Vere starts each step an instant before it is actually called for by the music, allowing Robin to copy him without falling behind, and he uses gentle pressure of the hands and quick motions of the eyes to indicate where she should be going and what she should be doing, again without being so obvious as to allow anyone watching to realize that Robin has never danced the dance before.

The Huntress is entirely humming observance of her partner, flowing into his music, swirling around his center, bubbling to his rhythm.  Vere is a strong enough current that Robin has no difficulty matching him whatsoever.  She dances in easy and carefree movements, her confidence in Vere allowing her to become the merry trickle of rain, the joyous chuckle of the brook, the excited rush of the river and the thunder of the waterfall.
            The instant acceptance and understanding of gentle pressures and the motions of eyes -- the Ranger is so responsive, it's as though Robin was native to a similar method of communication.  And only spoke words as a second language.

As the dance progresses Vere allows the perfect precision of his steps to alter, matching Robin's carefree manner, and making the two of them a balanced pair, a living extension of the music. Mist in rain, fog over the rushing river, the melding of water and air that make up the waterfall.
            Words are unnecessary, and Vere doesn't bother with them, although a delighted laugh of pure joy escapes him from time to time. For the duration of the dance, there is nothing of importance in all the world save the two of them and their dance.

Vere's laughter is returned in exultant swells and rivulets from Robin, like the dappled and dancing sunlight across running streams, bright and joyous.

And when the music ends he sweeps her a bow, rises, and locks eyes with her for an instant that seems timeless. Then he takes her hand in his and says, "My thanks, my lady." His eyes say the words are a pale reflection of what his heart feels at this moment.

As the dance reaches its inevitable conclusion at the sea, Robin flows to a slow swirl of deep eddies, still but not motionless.  Her chest rising and falling in deep breaths, taking in the air that has flowed through and around her, that has made her so light.
            Vere's eyes, grey as the morning's mist, hold her forever.  And there she burns in emerald fire across the water's surface.  The touch of skin to skin, palm to palm, sends a bolt of skyfire through her and the smile of a lifetime fills Robin's visage.
            There just are... no words for this moment.

Given the tendency of couples to line up in order by the gentleman's place in precedence, Jovian can't help but notice some of this. His mask is effective at hiding his reactions in the whirl of motion, but at the dance's conclusion, he spares a few seconds after the reverence to beam at his sister, and nod, however microscopically, at their Danu cousin.

It is the motion of red in the corner of her view that finally wakes Robin back to the world around her.  She comes back to herself with an almost audible 'snap' and once again, she's an awkward undressed girl in the most powerful court in the universe.  But her smile is still in her heart.
            "Vere."  So much, and yet not nearly enough in that one word.  "Thank you."

Vere nods to her, his face returning to its normal calm expression.  He nods a brief acknowledgment to Jovian, then takes Robin's arm in his.  "By custom," he explains, "After each dance your partner is expected to escort you from the dance floor.  Some men will escort you to where they think you should go.  A greater number will escort you back to where you stood when they asked you to dance.  Those who are worthy of having danced with you will ask where you wish to be escorted."  He raises an eyebrow.

A happy ruffle runs through Robin at feeling her arm coiled through Vere's.  Somehow it's not at all like having a wing bound, more like being supported by a warm breeze.  And she beams at the Danu during the explanation, so elegantly put and yet simple and understandable.  A chuckle answers the raised eyebrow, Vere's sense of humor... as fine as everything else about him.
            "Weeellll," the girl's bright eyes dart over to where Big Brother is watching.  She wrinkles her nose in Jovian's direction with laughter twinkling in her eyes.  Beyond him, further down the line of dancers, is the white figure of her father disengaging from his own dance.  And the whisp of Julian's dry voice drifts through Robin's head, '... as long as you behave with reasonable discretion.'
              Looking back at Vere, the Huntress represses her natural instinct to throw the man over her shoulder and head for the bushes.  Instead, "Maybe something to drink?" is the best she can come up with.

Vere nods.  "An excellent suggestion," he says.  "Would you prefer the reflecting pool of champagne, or shall we choose from a wider selection of drinks?"  He beings heading across the dance floor, escorting Robin on a path not quite in the direction of either of those side rooms while waiting for her decision.  He tilts his head slightly to one side, half-looking at her.  "I do not know your favourite drink," he says.  "I should."

"Maybe not champagne." Robin chuckles, "That ice thing is just..." she shrugs, "outre."
            "And don't worry about not knowing my favorite drink.  There isn't any of it here, so I could never have ordered it anywhere that the rumor might have reached your ears."  She grins up at him _not quite telepathic yet Vere, but still damn good._
            "As close as this place comes is... gin, I guess."  Robin mentally tastes various things, matching them to Stoke's pure homebrewed poison.  A fond smile crosses her face at the memory of the ranger's rattling, hissing stills, the odors that would drift through the Mews when the wind blew foul and many, many nights spent around the bonfire...
            "What about you, Vere?  You drink?"  Frank curiosity shines in Robin's eyes.

"A variety of drinks," Vere replies, "although my preference is pear cider."  He leads her towards the side room dedicated to beverages, nodding in passing to various people they pass, but moving just quickly enough that no one has a chance to stop them for conversation.  "Here we are."  He catches a passing waiter's eye and requests their drinks.  "Straight gin, I assume?" he asks Robin.

A warm chuckle shakes her.  "Well, now I'm tempted to ask for it with pineapple, a little umbrella and maybe a plastic monkey hanging off the side... but yeah, straight it is."  She smiles.

Vere chuckles quietly, and accepts the drinks from the servant with murmured thanks.  He hands Robin her gin, and takes a small sip of his cider.

Since Vere is doing the actual thanking, Robin just smiles her thanks.  The girl obviously does not know how to treat a servant as invisible, no matter how invisible they want to be.  The Ranger raises an eyebrow at her glass as she takes it, though -- so small and with so little in it.  Ah well, strange place.  She takes what can only be called a slug of gin, tasting it briefly on the way down.

"Pear cider is good too."  The Huntress comments thoughtfully.  "Tastes like fall."

Vere tilts his head to one side.  "An interesting phrase," he says.  "Not one I would have used."  He pauses and considers it for a moment. "I  understand it, though.  Extremely descriptive, as are most of your statements."

Robin's eyes twinkle.  She loves watching Vere analyze apply generalize.  It's like watching a small spider spin out a web, delicate, beautiful, strong, useful.
            "I suppose I can be quite the evocateur at times."  She shrugs, "It's not something I try to do.  It just happens.  And with this crowd."  Those green eyes roll in exasperation.

Vere makes a quiet inquisitive sound in the back of his throat.

The Huntress dips her head bashfully.  Then a rueful chuckle, "You know.  I'm going to have to change my precepts.  When I first got here... I thought of the denizens of Amber as one pack.  A people who, yes, had different agendas, but who spoke a common language and common understandings."  There's a hint in her words, that that commonality may not have been something Robin wanted to back.
            Robin takes another slug, emptying her glass.  She looks at the tumbler, momentarily puzzled.  Then she looks back to Vere.  "But the more I try to talk to people lately, the more I think... all of us, or at least many of us, feel as alien here as I do.  The languages we use are very different. And the understandings?  Elusive."
            "So, now I'm faced with the two-fold.  On the one path -- keep your cards to your chest, don't let them pawn you, show no weakness.  The other?"  She smiles at the Danu and enunciates carefully, "Hello, Vere.  My name is Robin.  I barely speak Court Thari but I'd like to get to know you better."  A wry and rueful grin spreads across her face.

"Lady Robin," Vere bows.  "I am Vere."  He straightens and regards her seriously.  "All that I am, I am willing to make known to you.  All that I have, I will place at your service.  Your smile brings light to a darkness I did not know existed."

A shuddering breath goes into the girl.  "Oh, Vere." One hand trembles as it raises to her lips.
            Then *boom*, supernova!  Robin flares bright enough it's amazing the flash-shadows of the other people in the room aren't burnt permanently into the walls.  She shouts joyfully, an inarticulate sound of pure happiness.  Energies surge through the girl.  Her whole body is illuminated with bliss and waves of warm delight wash out from her center.
            And she throws herself toward the Danu, intent on snatching him up into a fierce embrace.

A surprised laugh escapes Vere, and for an instant he loses himself in the moment, his arms going around Robin and holding her tightly.  Then she feels him tense, and as he pushes her gently away he whispers, "This is not the time nor place, my lady."

Robin's hug is like being wrapped in a cougar; warm and wild with a purring thrum going through her diaphragm.  She obviously enjoys physical contact and the girl rubs her cheek along Vere's shoulder, eyes closed in blissful content.
            The moment the man tenses though, Robin freezes.  She is already moving to disengage when Vere releases her, not clinging, even though she really, *really* wants to stay where she is.
           "Okay," she whispers back with a small nod.  Her green eyes turn to the Danu.  She doesn't truly understand, but she does trust.  And she doesn't want to hurt him by... anything.

Vere begins to speak as she moves away, but her eyes catch his and whatever he was about to say is lost.  For a while he just gazes at her, a look of mild astonishment on his face.

Sparkling eyes smile as Robin looses her words again, heart burning, head spinning.  In the end, she touches her lips with tender fingers, and gently places them on Vere's chest over his heart.  And smiles blissfully again.  She can't make promises; her whole world, her whole self has changed so much recently.  But she can love and she can try.

As Robin's fingers touch his chest Vere's eyes close to slits, and a tightly controlled shiver runs through his body.  His right hand comes up, and lightly touches the back of her hand over his heart.
            Then his eyes snap open, and a rueful chuckle escapes him.  "The universe has a cruel and wicked sense of humor, my lady," he says.  He shakes his head.  "There are things I must tell you.  Things you must know before making any decisions."
            He looks around, only now realizing how very public they are, and how rumors are no doubt already spreading out from them in ripples throughout the crowd.  Deliberately, he takes a half step away from her, his face resuming the polite mask that is his normal expression.

Robin cocks her head, and ruffles her shoulders.  "Okay," she murmurs, "Too fast.  Time.  I... should go?  Dance with others?  Make other scenes?" _So you won't be singled out?_
            The Huntress tries to match Vere's donning of the public face, but she doesn't have one as polished or one she is at ease with.  Instead, she just dims.  But a little smile remains on her lips as she lowers her arm, turns to the side and lets her eyes slide away to the rest of the room.

"It might be wise," he replies quietly.  He turns away as well, so that they are standing side by side, watching the others in the room.  "Until we have had a chance to talk," he says.  "Until we have come to some decisions."

Vere finds that they are the subject of significant amounts of attention and notices that more than one whispered side conversation seems to stop abruptly when his attention turns back to the room.

"Weeeelll," a warm chuckle shakes the Huntress as she continues to speak sotto voce.  "No one has *ever* accused me of wisdom before."  She grins to 'herself' though her eyes dart sideways.
            "But for me?" Robin ruffles again, a happy undertone to the set of her shoulders, "Decision's made.  Now it's just prep-work for the horrific consequences."  She smiles sideways to the Danu, her eyes lit with teasing.  But underswelled with the knowledge that her statement might not be metaphorical.  Still, she's game.  Nothing worth having comes without work.  And challenges are a *good* thing to the Ranger.
            "Very well, then."  Robin turns back to Vere, formally bows and speaks in a normal tone of voice.  "I find that I must take my leave of you, Grey One.  For there is yet more dancing and others who may await me."  Oh, those eyes are still sparkling though.

It is somewhat striking how suddenly several of the wallflowers, matrons of society and such, all are moving at once.  Almost as if in response to some external stimulus.

"Indeed."  Vere gives her a formal bow, his face set in a polite but not overly familiar expression.  But at the lowest point in the bow he pauses for just an instant, flicks his eyes up at her, and winks.  Then he straightens, turns, and walks over to a servant, where he negotiates an exchange of an empty glass for a full one.

If Robin is aware of the fluttering around the room, she doesn't seem to take any notice of it.  As she wanders out, the girl notices the empty tumbler in her hand.  Momentarily perplexed, she stashes the glass in the base of a handy standing plant.  Then drifts off into the main room, a vanishing glowing figure among the glowing swirling constellations already therein.