Your father’s friend has a yearly masquerade ball that your whole family goes to. Tonight you’re dressed to the nines in a tight scarlet dress and a lace mask. Everyone is looking at you, including the mysterious tall, muscular man in a black suit over at the bar. He’s wearing some type of hood, and his blue eyes bear into you.

Some time later, as the dancing begins, someone taps your shoulder.

“Hello,” A thick Austrian accent says. It’s the man from the bar. “May I have this dance?”