A dance to some, a game to others, but it gets rather tiring sometimes. It's that same feeling written across the eyes of the next person she greets. The feeling gets erased a second later - a witch, but she plays differently than the rest of those monsters. Who cares for her name, the waves she leaves are sincere in their own way. No malice or toxic ambition, but no blind acceptance either. The gold eyes close with a mute sigh.

Fine, he'll play a round with this one.

A gloved hand takes her own, and it's an entirely unconscious motion to kiss the back of it. The picturesque textbook maneuver of the old days, but it's purely genuine and honest like no one outside of that era seems to manage.

"Wright." That's all she gets. "Are you enjoying your night, Widdowson?"