If Eric was a ball virgin, then Sylvie was the harlot queen of balls.
After coming onto land she had learned early about the glory that was the European royal courts, installing herself as mistresses in them with no problem at all. She had found all the devious and bitchy court politics a complete delight and had thrilled in using her particular power to add to it all.
Consequently, Sylvie had attended a lot of balls in her time but none for many decades.
Tonight she had decided on a dress that made her feel like Aphrodite rising from the sea foam, and was willing to enchant any human who suggested it was too risque for her to remain there.
At the door the man taking tickets had said her dress was not acceptable but moments later changed his mind. The Jedi had nothing on Sylvie. These were not the boobs he was looking for. Humans were so precious about being able to see a woman's nipples and yet so very thrilled whenever they did.
While Eric made friends with the oysters, Sylvie adjusted her mask and took in the room again. But at his comments Sylvie looked back and smiled at him. "Fortunately for you," she told him, "I am a wonderful dancer."
She reached out and slipped her hand into his. "I'll keep you close," she promised with devious wiggle of her eyebrows that was obscured by the mask.