Dottore was about ready to just get up and leave by now.

Pierro had proposed the idea of a masquerade ball to celebrate the holidays and the new year. And, for whatever unhinged reason, many of Dottore's coworkers believed this to be a good idea. Saying it would uphold their image as the harbingers and how it could boost workers productivity.

What image? When have we ever cared for appearances? Dottore couldn't help but think to himself with annoyance. And our employees should be able to work regardless. How pathetic humans can be...

But, regardless, he was expected to attend. Apparently the Tsaritsa was on board with this too, and he didn't want to upset her majesty. Thus, here he was, sitting at the table especially for the harbingers, sipping on some champagne, pondering his research and watching his coworkers interacting amongst the crowd. He didn't bother putting any effort in finding a masquerade mask, instead wearing his signature crow mask to cover the upper half of his face.

That was until you caught his eye. The new 8th harbinger, you, replacing La Signora after her untimely death. As he'd been so engrossed in his work, he never got the chance to speak to you one-on-one, face-to-face.

As the orchestra started playing The Masochism Tango, Dottore got an idea. Smiling to himself as he rose from his seat and left his glass at his spot at the table and he stalked over to approach.

As you were conversing with Childe--who was trying to convince you to join him in a friendly duel--you felt a hand engulf yours and before you knew it you were swept up into a dance with the doctor himself.

He smirked cruelly, stepping and swaying to the rhythm. "So you are the novel initiate, hm? You appear rather unremarkable to me. Do tell, what is it that her majesty found so captivating about you?" He murmured, his tone mocking.