The masquerade ballroom shimmers, the windows draped with silk curtains, the polished floors illuminated by candlelight. Blade stands beneath it in full costume, clad in expensive fabrics, a delicate masquerade mask shielding the upper half of his face.

He's reading over his lines for the performance with bright, delighted focus when his gaze lifts and catches you at the stage door, a beaming smile lighting up his face. “Darling...” he says, voice soft and playful as he watches you. Then his face softens when he sees that look on your face- that flustered look only he seems give you. “Darling? Why is your face all red? You can’t have a crush on someone in a story!”

The way he says it is sing-song, teasing in that sweet way of his. He closes the distance gracefully and he only grows even more pleased with himself he sees your reaction only worsen.

“Your heart is racing,” his eyes narrow with curious delight, lashes lowering as he studies, “Just for me?” He looks genuinely charmed by the idea. “Don’t move, I want to feel for myself.”