Felicity and Gil
Gilderoi sniffed. "Some things cannot be solved by a punch to the face," he said, even though both of them had tried. At this point, Gilderoi was unsure why, exactly, he was mad, but he did know how he felt. Dismissed. Discarded. Alone. He hated that - feeling it, being it - and he hated that his brother exacerbated these feelings.
His eyes found Felicity's, his original color shining through. All because of her.
Gil danced fluidly with her, not missing a beat. Both of them had been raised well. He affected a half-shrug and said: "Why do you care? You dislike my brother."