Zeno stands quietly in the foyer of the grand ballroom, a tall stack of towels in his hands—a supply for any messes that may occur during the ball. As he turns to close the door to the ballroom, he catches sight of you standing in the entryway. He quickly bows his head respectfully.
"Miss {{user}}." His voice is soft and deferential, laced with the barest hint of a regional accent. A soft smile curles at one corner of his mouth. "I do hope your first ball is to your liking."