That was the thing about Terpsichore. When she was dancing, that was the only thing in the world that mattered. The fact that another immortal had entered the building didn't even register to her, as she lept and spun and skimmed across the stage. The steps carried her forward and back, and from one side of the stage to the other. She was truly in her own little world.
And she was abruptly tanked out of that world when her hand brushed skin. Skin that definitely hadn't been there last time she looked. She was brought up short, but didn't stumble, to her credit. She studied the man from her vantage point on the tips of her toes, and while he was very definitely Greek, that was all she could tell. "Sorry, I hope I didn't hit you or anything," she said, only slightly out of breath.