Cassian didn’t back away even as she took a step forward, though he wondered - albeit briefly - if she would try something ruinous in such a public space. It would serve to bring down the both of them, and he did not take her to be someone with such self-destructive tendencies. That way she gazed up with her blissful smile did not leave him inclined to believe she had a mind of a martyr, but instead, that she was very much determined to be a survivor. It drew a grin from him, no matter what sort of acid she wished to throw at his face with her words. He could relate to survivors, and how they do nearly anything to make it through.

“Miss Juniper Edevane of London,” he chuckled then, because images of her as a demure socialite seemed about as realistic as an erumpent taking flight. Hands stayed firmly, decidedly clasped behind his back, because he wasn’t about to earn the ire of Alistair now. Cass felt acutely aware of their stifling surroundings. “You’ve done well at answering all of my questions. Though I cannot say that I am satisfied.” Let her interpret that however she wishes. The imagination was usually far more effective than anything he could think to say.

The response about her twin, however, was telling. As he suspected, these two did not appear to have anything in common at all. Having had only a glimpse at the rivalries that could exist between sisters by the handful of instances where he had to separate his two (and that was between two who tolerated each other), he could only imagine the bombs the Edevanes threw at each other in the safer, private confines of their household. Juniper’s barb about throwing her sister a departure ball only confirmed what he already suspected.

“Hmm. I have never had the need to explain myself to my siblings, being their eldest,” he agreed offhandedly. Betraying, slightly, his status as head of house. Though she did not ask anything of him, and he wasn’t apt to volunteer further information unless she asked him nicely. No doubt she could just as easily prise any information about who he was, or what he did, from her father later should she be so inclined.

Smile turned a bit rueful then, amused as to why she acted as though he were leading her to the gallows. “I suppose I should put you out of your misery,” he conceded chivalrously, gently reaching for her offered hand. Fingers tapped gently against the heel of her palm as he bowed to start their dance. All signs pointed towards this being a bad idea. But, they were too far committed to the act to change things now.

Together they moved into place on the dance floor. At least for the first minute, things went on without incident. He took great care to keep only his fingertips against the beads of her dress, resting gently midway up her back. Though not particularly incentivized to change her opinion about him, he was set on giving her no further reasons to think of him as anything but a gentleman. Especially now that she was out in proper society.

At the risk of her glowering at him the entire time, he endeavored to improve her mood with conversation about something she might enjoy. “So what is your dream career then, if I may ask?” Perhaps he may not. Though it intrigued him for a proper lady to wish to entertain anything beyond the occasional party-going and dress-shopping. As a man who didn’t have to work himself yet still decided to, he could appreciate this drive.

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