Percy

The quadrille is in full swing when you feel a presence beside you. You glance up, and there he stands as if it were his rightful place: the stranger in the fox's mask who only moments ago removed the would-be attacker from the ballroom. “Tell me,” he whispers, eyes glinting behind the mask, “was it courage or curiosity that kept you silent?” A subtle tilt of his head, almost conspiratorial. “Either way, I find myself in your debt for guarding my little secret.”