"Were you appreciating the concert, or trying to sneak by me, Rosie?"
Adair's song-voice faded into her usual delicate timbre, though her fingers continued to coerce the melody from the keys. She'd known the changeling was lingering behind her for longer than it took to simply cross the ring into her vision. Adair knew the individual scent of just about every performer, roadie, and purveyor in the Carnival. Her senses were keen, knife-point sharp, and required no wind in their aid.
The vampire looked up from her playing, pale lips quirked into a soft, but slightly haunted smile in response to the knife thrower's nervous looking wave.