Ophion/Juliette
Juliette was hiding. Well, technically, she was indisposed, or at least, that was what she had told the third gentleman who had asked to dance with her. This one was particularly loathsome, with feet that seemed filled with lead and hands that did not always stay where they ought. Better to plead faintness and escape than stay there.
She had found herself lurking in a hallway just off the ballroom, checking periodically on the happenings there, lest she be asked later whom she had seen and spoken with. Storm was nowhere in sight, more the pity, and Gale was... otherwise occupied. Juliette had questions that she doubted the mage would be willing or able to answer, so perhaps it was best to stay out of her way, too.
Apparently, she couldn't stay out of everyone's way, though; a man entered the hallway with a purposeful gait, and nearly bowled her over as she stood there, contemplating whether or not she should return to the festivities before she was missed. "I am so sorry," she gasped as she flattened her back against the wall; an automatic reaction, even though he had nearly run her over, not the other way around.