Hearing his name called, Lord Emmanellain dashed headlong toward the source of the cry only to be disappointed at the sight of a familiar face.

“And there I thought a distressed damsel was crying out for the comfort of mine arms! You surely know how to get a man's hopes up!” He teased, far from genuinely put out. In truth it was always good to see one of the few he called a friend, whether or not the sentiment was shared.

“But why didn't you come to me sooner? Do you think so little of your comrade Emmanellain!? As it happens, I have been ordered to make myself useful! My dear brother, in his infinite wisdom, decided this would be an excellent chance to make something of myself by employing my considerable skill in mingling amongst the upper crust to more... shall we say productive ends. After all, social gatherings are a prime opportunity for overhearing choice tidbits of rumor and gossip.”

“Though lest there be any misunderstanding, I should stress that I've not suddenly become a ‘fearsome’ warrior. Rather far from it, actually… But should the opportunity arise for a spot of ballroom dancing, I will be your twinkle-toed Gentleman of Light!”