As the duo continued to step and twirl amongst the sea of color that was the dance floor, the tension which had so steadily grew in intensity throughout the length of their interaction seemed to falter slightly with the admittance of Maximillian’s curiosity. Where Clara had kept him at arm’s length but a few moments prior, they now found themselves a mere breath’s distance from one another as the band transitioned into another song. Fortunately for the white-clad gentleman, the song’s tempo and harmony melodiously flowed into one another without pause, and his simple, elegant footwork could persist at the same pace. Max was far too consumed by his circumstances to busy himself with the likes of a complicated style of dance; he was far more interested in discovering just where it was that he had met this intriguing specimen. His life was long and his experiences varied, but the feeling which Clara evoked within him was unique enough that he was sure it had formed some sort of lasting impression. Though she did not look more than eighteen, Max was intimately familiar with the concept of deceptive appearances. Most place him within the range of his early twenties, but only a select few individuals were aware of the truth behind his carefully crafted illusion. However, regardless of the amount of effort he put toward recalling the face which dwelled beneath her mask, his mind inevitably found itself incapable of recalling any appearance that could be connected to Clara’s soft, chilly voice. As he carefully pondered their situation, Clara’s diminutive voice breached the silence which had connected the gap separating them. Her glimmering, hazel-framed pupils met his own once further, and her words were met with a surprised chuckle on the part of Maximillian; he certainly didn’t strike her as the type to have a sense of humor that went beyond the level of dismissive sarcasm.

	After another brief instant of comfortable silence passed between them, another unexpected smile worked its way onto what was visible of his dance partner’s features. The simple gesture seemed to brighten her disposition significantly, but only for a moment. As she continued speaking, her already small and light voice quieted even further, and Max couldn’t entirely prevent a sly grin that found its way onto his masked visage. It was no small feat for her to admit something to a stranger, especially something so strange as the tether of familiarity which had suddenly bound them together. However, as if suddenly realizing just what it was that she was saying, her voice returned to its former volume as she quickly dismissed his small victory. From the few moments Max had spent alongside the mysterious Clara, it was easy to conclude that she did not take kindly to the interest others seemed to have in her. If not for their mutual feelings of passing familiarity with one another, he was sure that their conversation would have ended long ago. Regardless, he resigned himself to learning the truth. He had already come this far in this little time; what could he possibly have to lose? Her declarations, though less outright hostile than they were previously, still struck Max as very defensive. Though he had made a good start, he would have to continue navigating the waters carefully if he was to truly discover the truth behind her mask. 

	“I must say, I’m surprised in my own right. It is not a common occurrence for someone to make me consider my own words so carefully in passing conversation.” He paused for a moment to flash a bright, relaxed smile, and remained silent briefly as his eyes fell upon Clara’s tightly pursed lips. It was evident that they were both deep within the realms of thought, doing their best to discover the true identity of the person standing before them, but they had reached an impassable point of discussion. In a place as public as this, there was only so much that could be said of his past, let alone to a stranger. He was sure that the truth behind his attraction to her was locked within her necklace, and he inevitably swallowed his inhibitions and continued speaking in a relaxed, quiet tenor. There was only one way to solve the intricate equation which had drafted itself before their green hued gazes, and it was with action.

	“It was the stone upon your necklace that first ignited the fires of curiosity in my mind. Oddly enough, from the very moment I laid my eyes upon it, I haven’t been able to keep my mind off of you.” He paused briefly as he watched a delicate brown curl fall onto Clara’s masked features, and as it did so, he was struck with an incredibly strong sense of déjà vu. At some point in his life, he had experienced this exact same moment to some degree. He was sure that several details weren’t matching up in his brain, but suddenly, he felt as though the puzzle pieces were starting to work themselves into the proper place in his mind. What was visible of his features suddenly became void of the emotion he’d displayed previously as he became lost in thoughts of the past. The feeling of the sea foam  drizzling against his brow, the pungent, salty odor of the ocean’s waves cascading across a moonlit beach, the passionate heat of flesh meeting flesh, and most of all, the shine of an uncut emerald glimmering upon bare skin  in the crescent moon’s glow. It was the first jewel he’d ever had the fortune to call his own. Though he knew he wouldn’t be able to afford it, he had to have it—and damned be the consequences of splurging on such a frivolous commodity. As sudden as the brief memory overcame him, his senses finally returned. Without realizing, he had subconsciously taken a large step backward in the process of his recollection. He was starting to remember, but the dance of wits and platitudes would no longer prove itself sufficient to jog his memory. As he cleared his throat and returned his gaze to Clara’s eyes, he realized that he had drifted off into the haze of his thoughts for far longer than he intended. He pulled away from her slightly and looked off into the crowd of suits and gowns which coated the floor’s tiles; who was she, and why was she evoking these feelings and memories which had remained dormant within him for so long? He considered his next plan of action for an instant as he returned his emerald gaze to her masked visage, then finally broke the silence which had spawned between them. It was better to end this charade before it became too complicated. The memories she awakened within his psyche were restored alongside feelings of longing, desperation, and regret, and those were three feelings which the elegantly dressed gentleman did not find himself comfortable feeling so suddenly. It was time to rid himself of the problem he had created before it seriously affected him.

	“Please forgive me, Clara. I did not wish to forget my manners in such a way. I must apologize for inconveniencing you on this eve, but if you could kindly excuse me, I believe I have taken enough of your valuable time. Thank you for the dance.” With that being said, Max didn’t spare his former dance partner so much as a glance backward as he quickly made his way back toward the table which contained their beverages. He quickly took up his cane and scotch, and then began to escort himself to the nearest exit, all the while ignoring the strange glances of the passerby as his exposed features knit themselves into twisted embroidery of irritation and confusion. As he made his way out of the masquerade’s main event, he lightly tapped his cane against the floor as he traversed the elegantly arranged hallways of their host’s manor. It was a luxurious abode to be sure, but the elegance of the furnishings did little to comfort the unease in Maximillian’s mind. In time, he eventually found his way to the outside world, and sighed in relief as the chilly mountain air washed over him. He quickly stomached what remained of his scotch, then carelessly shattered the empty glass on the concrete of the manor’s exterior. Manners were the least of his concerns at the moment. He took a moment to dig through his jacket and withdrew a cigarette and a lighter, inhaling sharply upon the mentholated tube of tobacco as his thoughts wandered back to Clara. He wasn’t sure she would follow him, but if she did, he wasn’t quite sure what he would say to her next. To have conducted their interaction with such ease and confidence, only to suddenly bolt from his conquest altogether was distinctly unlike him. He could only wonder how Clara had reacted to the display. It was for that reason and that reason alone that his mask remained upon his face as he smoked his cigarette, attempting to figure out whether or not his curiosity was worth his trouble. Only time could tell, he supposed.