For all the glitz and glamor that surrounded them, Sebastian couldn’t help but note how particularly elegant this woman was, the very one that had so oddly captured his attention. She was attired impeccably, her entire costume that of a fox and he noted this detail with no small amount of glee. (At last, someone who could appreciate the finer aspects of so beautiful a creature!) It always astounded him how the wizarding world worked, even after nearly twenty-years a part of it himself. Gowns were enchanted left and right to glimmer, shimmer, and slide in ways that mimicked water itself or even fire. He felt a bit of a pauper himself by contrast and tugged absently at the corner of his own mask again. Black and gold had seemed a simple enough theme, masculine— lazy. Having only just decided to attend and keeping it from his mother altogether, Sebastian hadn’t had the help or time he might have if he’d been more forthcoming. As a result, he was attired simply in a black suit with gold cuffs and a bronze waistcoat, and if there was any proper ‘theme’ about him it might have been harlequin at best. His mask only covered half his face and his cravat had small diamonds subtly hewn into its folds, but at least he’d tried. (Which was more than could be said of some men at these types of things.)
Inclining his head at the pretty debutant and grinning at her nonchalant little shrug, Sebastian chuckled. He couldn’t help the way his gaze trialed over her shoulder as it gently moved up and back down again. “You could have fooled me,” he responded, breezily. She looked like she belonged at just this sort of thing. Her accent too, was a welcome surprise. Familiar. “English then, I presume?” He asked, flashing her a winning smile and hoping it was something she’d feel similarly they had in common. It had been silly of him to approach her not speaking Italian, a gamble he’d taken without even realizing it, but for whatever reason his instinct had paid off. “The Italians sure can put us to shame when they want to,” he continued, lifting his glass of champagne to take a sip. “I can’t even remember the last time I attended something of this magnitude back home.”
It was a silly comment, gone and out before he could catch it. He hoped she wouldn’t take offense to being compared to their Italian hostess in such a way. Was her - evidently English, he presumed - family the type to throw equally lavish affairs? Sebastian didn’t know but something about the woman was setting him out of sorts. He felt the need to fill their silence until he could put his finger on what it was about her, or how they might know one another. Clearing his throat a bit in hopes of recovery, he shifted. “Forgive me— Sebastian Talbot, Viscount Cheltenham,” he introduced, giving her a small tip at the waist.