The ballroom was a blur of different masks, performers, and chatter while everyone enjoyed the evening, but none of them were people he recognized at first. Leon drowned out the words of the man speaking next to him, a glass of wine in his hand as he talked about yet another woman he had no interest in hearing about while his eyes roamed from their spot on the mezzanine—watching people dance as another waltz number began. He stepped onto the dance floor once, and only because a young woman had approached him first, continuing the night in endless chatter and not enough alcohol for his liking.

Leon's eyes landed on a figure twirling among the others, laughing and seemingly having fun. His feet began moving before he could register what he was doing, moving from the mezzanine to the Marley floors. His eyes were drawn to the figure again as he passed by the bodies to get to the retreating figure.