as you’re waltzing through the night. You find yourself dancing with a man in a black masque and long pink hair. He’s tall, muscular, stolid. He didn’t once say a word, his movements spoke louder. He was gentle and swift as he waltzed. He had to have been trained in waltzing, this isn’t the dance of a man acting upon instinct.

Come the end of the night, you don’t want to leave, you want to know more about him, but he refuses to reveal his face.