Vincent found himself infinitely amused with Ms. Wixeldorf’s reply. He didn’t believe her of course; all young ladies, especially those in their debuting season, primarily spent their time vying for male attention. But he remained amused nonetheless. “I’m glad to hear it,” the blonde replied, indulgently.

They continued to twirl then, their waltz picking up tempo even as the conversation stayed fairly fluid. Green eyes narrowed in on the small form before him as the brunette discussed her mother’s habits. He still found it odd that a woman could be so unnaturally resentful, jealous even, of her own child. Vince supposed he was no stranger to the unnatural inclinations of humanity, however, and so he set his judgement aside as a big blonde facade flickered across his mind’s eye. Instead, he refocused on capturing the woman’s attention and eyed the elder Mrs. Wixeldorf in passing as he gave the daughter an elegant little turn.

Protective had never been a word Vince would have associated with himself. He was self interested, at best. Possessive. But protective for the sake of keeping something from harm without any direct benefit to himself, well… that wasn’t Vincent Iago. Not anymore. Especially not someone he’d only just met who really could offer him nothing on her own. Still, at the little brunette’s words, he felt something tug the deepest, rustiest parts of him that hadn’t felt the warmth of sentimentality in years. Ignoring the stirring, Vincent hummed at the girl’s continued conjectures, neither confirming nor denying. So she’d realized he was here by her father’s hand, had she?

The song came to its natural conclusion then and Vincent paused, ready to release the debutante of the evening and relinquish her back to her world. She however, seemed to have her own plans. Little fingers tightened their grip as he attempted to step away and she ever so cleverly asked him his profession. Vincent grinned. “I make dreams come true,” he replied, opaquely, and tugged himself free. “As for you, Ms. Wixeldorf,” he said, holding nothing but her hand. “I do hope we have a chance to meet again.” Green eyes twinkling with unresolved mischief, Vince bent at the waist just enough to give her hand a gentle kiss in parting. Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

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   Beryl Wixeldorf