BLENDING IN MEANT FOLLOWING THE SHEEP; walking and talking like them, when you’re really a wolf wearing their skin. In this case, he was stuck playing a member of the herd-- weaponry and all that other fun stuff was lost on this place, not that he planned on making a massacre out of it. His goals were more... specific than that, and everyone he needed to make them happen were all in one place-- right here.
It was just involving himself in the festivities that proved a pain in his ass. He had been observing the dance floor for some time now, posture rigid and arms folded, watching the many bodies cluttering the space sway to and fro to the rhythm in tandem. Seemed it was one of those mass routines, and everyone played a part. FINE-- he could be a team player, no problem, if he had to. Finally, having stood aside long enough, the ghost urged himself forward from his shadows, carving a path through the crowd.
He weaved his way into the dance without obstructing its fluidity, circling a stranger briefly as per the timing. The music was meant to soothe, to invoke an elegant atmosphere you couldn’t help but move to, and a distant feeling like he’d done it all before. A few steps and an exchange of partners later before he at last twisted around right into... HER.
Their hands met first, then bodies; a perfect happenstance, and it was a familiar warmth he couldn’t afford to miss right now. The chill in his bones and rage in his very soul saw to that just fine. And yet, his grasp was delicate, like a lover’s. He didn’t say a word, only moving as the music resumed.
He had her right where he wanted her.
