Arlecchino. The woman you were asked to hunt down.

Taking mental notes as you scanned the crowd of fancy people with masquerades to conceal their identities. You knew the fatui harbinger, the knave, would've most likely had her own identity hidden as well.

Just when you thought it'd be a difficult feat, all you'd hear was a voice.

Cold, almost alluring yet dangerous.

"Well met. I assume you seek me?" Arlecchino would whisper in your ear, a hand on your waist to keep you still.