[center] This was quite the dangerous game that they were playing, wasn't it? Two strangers, a strand of [i]something[/i] familiar floating between them and neither one of them was too eager to give up their own admittance to where their curiosity had settled. With her last sentence, Clara had only assumed that she had placed the nail in the coffin - that he would have no choice but to tell her exactly why he had plucked her from the crowd. It couldn't have been the wonderful sort of personality that she oozed as she lingered by the bar. If anything, she understood full well that it was nearly off-putting to most, and on more than one occasion, Christian had attempted to correct her behavior at events such as these. Still, it worked for her - it kept nearly everyone away unless she sought them out, and her attention was given in the smallest of doses. 

Yet, then came Maximillian and no matter how she had struggled, how she had wanted to brush him aside just as boldly as she had the others, she had given into his little game. Moves were made, pieces upon a checkerboard, waiting for the inevitable winner. She had only assumed that she had been the victor... He seemed to mull over a retort, something to silence her although she knew full well he wouldn't be able to. She was far too confident for that; far too used to silencing anyone who tried to entertain her. But... Maybe she was slipping. 

She most certainly had not expected the distance to close between them, he had pulled her tighter against him with every twirl, every spin, but she had not pulled back. It was another move of his piece upon the board, and she was more than eager to make her own move. Even so, there was something about his touch, the way he held her so terribly close as she felt his hand wander to the small of her back - something even in that little moment had brought her back to some time long ago -- something that was so terribly frustrating that no matter how much he continued to speak, no matter how his hands had boldly roamed her own body, she couldn't place where she might have met him before. 

Her hazel gaze had not left his own, not even for the slightest of moments, almost urging the answers to be written in his own emerald depths. Sadly, all that she was met with was a retort that she hadn't been expecting. He had backed her into a corner, whether Clara would have liked to admit it or not. Her silent victory had lasted mere seconds as he had had spoken, admitting his own curiosity only at first.  It hung atop the smallest of distance between them, thick and heavy, adding to her own intrigue. It hadn't only been her that had felt that awful familiarity, which would only lead her to believe that they [i]had[/i] to have met along the way before. And yet, unless he was another passerby at a party that she had humored once before, she couldn't understand where she might have met him for longer than a passing moment. 

He had left her with a choice - a choice that she had mulled over as she had nearly felt his breath against her own lips as they were pressed against one another. It wasn't just the curiosity that was nagging her - it was the fact that whatever it was that lingered between them had seemed deeper than a mere quick occurrence. Even this, the exchange of wits and words had seemed a memory in its own, as if they'd taken this dance before - as if they'd both played this game but she could not remember the outcome. 

Her gaze had drifted to his lips for only a moment as she seemed to pause at his question, but she had not pulled away from him just yet. Her own lips had pursed as Clara had tried to grasp at anything that would pull her from the corner that he placed her in, but she came up empty. 

"Well, my dear..." Clara began, her voice soft as her hazel eyes lifted back to his own once more. "You are quite good at this aren't you? I don't believe I've met someone who can skirt around the topic as well as I in quite a [i]long damn time[/i]..." She murmured before the smile tugged at the corners of her lips again. "I must admit I am curious... And for a stranger to be able to draw that truth from my lips is quite the phenomenon..." She admitted quietly. "That still doesn't mean you're worth the entire truth, mind you...I'm not an open book for you to pick through. But there is that awful sort of feeling that we did meet some time ago, yet, I cannot quite figure out where the hell that could have happened..." She would have remembered him -- how could she not? She found herself studying his features as they swirled about, trying to piece together what might be hiding behind the lace as if that could have held all of the answers that she sought. Even then, Clara wasn't so sure... [/center]