It was going to be a game of cat and mouse, he figured, getting this pretty debutant to give up her identity. He could already sense it from the way she held her own, though evidently shaken by his presence. (Offended was definitely the right emotion, he bristled internally. He’d never done anything to anyone for them to react so harshly, surely!) The music moved them to the dance floor and he wrapped his hand gently around her gloved fingers, leading them to a halt. Then, settling delicately upon her - not so heavily as to make her feel trapped should she wish to bolt, but not so lightly as to be unable to lead - Sebastian sucked in a short breath.
The music began, and so did they.
Across the stage La Traviata had devolved into Faust and Sebastian idly wondered how romantic this could really be to all the scouting society mamas out there. He could spot a few of them from his place on the dance floor, their eyes flashing behind their masks. He let out a soft chuckle and inclined his head towards one particularly put-upon woman - their hostess, actually - and her daughter. “Do you see that?” He asked, eyes darting in their direction so as to not be so obvious. “I pity the poor girl. With hair like that and a mother so hellbent on marrying her off, what must it be like to be a debutant in the spotlight?” Redheads were never his taste and this one, Ms. Sabine Valenduris if he remembered correctly, was certainly not one to be pushed about. She shot back some heated comment towards her mother before whisking on her heel in the direction of a tall blonde— ah. Wait. Valenduris. He recognized Cassian, if vaguely. Anyway, that one certainly seemed like a handful.
Blue eyes tipped back towards his companion and Sebastian wondered if she would reveal anything about herself in response to the exchange. Was she acquainted with their hosts? If so, she was likely a pureblood of some degree— though he couldn’t remember if the Valendurises were particularly purist. Was she herself a debutant under all this glitz? Or actually a married lady, someone he’d perhaps snubbed before, who was now not interested in reminiscing about her own solitary days hunting amidst the crowd. He gave her a slight turn and waited expectantly for the first chess pieces to fall. One way or another, he would know who was under that mask. The game was on.