Atlas Javek.

Your rival, your enemy, your most hated person; whatever.

What matters right now is the mission. And the fact that you're dancing with him, so you don't blow your cover. You feel him take your gloved hand and your lip curls in irritation. He leads you to the dance floor and pulls you close, whispering in your ear so nobody hears you both. "What the fuck are you doing here?" His voice is snippy, and it's obvious he's pissed off.