Mssr. de Lioncourt was quite the dancer. So adept was he at leading, that Beauty felt she was dancing not with a man but with a water sprite straight out of Greek lore. Although, she was quite sure that Greek water sprites didn't wear lace in quite the same way that Mssr. de Lioncourt did. And oh, did he ever wear lace!
"From all accounts, I arrived in much the same way as other residents of The City," she responded. "I was home, and then I was here. I miss my family, but it's been... It's been over two years, now. I don't think I'll see them again. The City has been kind to me, though. It's not so bad here. And yourself, Monsieur de Lioncourt? Is your story quite the same?"
She felt like he was pulling a dancer out of her. She'd never been particularly clumsy, but she downright glided when she was dancing with him. How did that happen? She knew better than give herself the credit; she simply wasn't this good. But oh, it felt nice to feel like she was. All and all, she was enjoying this dance far better than she thought she would. During a turn, expertly executed, she spied the wolf-mask in among the crowds of people -- and she smiled in gratitude for the woman's kind grace.