Of course Mister Greengrass thought the dance was wonderful. It was quite possibly the most wonderful and beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Everything else paled in comparison, and now that the dance was over Ida felt unmoored. Restless. Weary. Where had the ballerina gone?

The witch’s eyes widened in response to his commentary about the schedule, one particular part of what he said sticking out like a sore thumb. “Another dancer?” she questioned, scandalized. “But she’s perfect! Why on earth a different dancer?” Ida huffed, a bit irritable at the news but it was no fault of Mister Greengrass that the host didn’t know perfection if it beat him over the head with a baton. Disgruntled, she took another sip of her drink. “Do you think we might be able to find her? I’d love to introduce myself,” the woman sighed wistfully. Ida still had no concept of what she’d actually do or say if she encountered the dancer, but it felt about as important as breathing. The very thought of it had her entire body thrilling with excitement, enough that she felt jittery. She took another draught of her drink, hoping it might help dull her senses enough to calm down.

“Merlin, I’m just–” she set down her empty glass and shook out her hands like she’d just dipped them in freezing water. “Oh, I can’t sit still. It’s warm in here too, isn’t it? Too many people,” and not one of them was the ballerina!

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