Niran was always confident in his appearances. Life was far too short to worry about such things anyway. If he was at such a perfect point in his life with the curation of biolight, it surely must have reflected on him as an individual. He was happy, for once. Content. Which made going to a far more informal outing much more comfortable - minus the guilt that could have nagged in the farthest corner of his mind.

He stood in front of a mirror, getting ready for a gala hosted by the Atlantic Arcology. His eyes flicked between his outfit and the makeup decidedly beautifying his features. Was it too much? How much of this was necessary? It was just a dance. Niran hadn't experienced this level of doubt before, yet he found his heart sinking now of all times.

The man's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, to which he cleared his throat and mentally recollected himself.

"Apologies, come in," his voice rang out, eyes still locked on to his in the mirror.