Miranda tilted her head. Her composure grew stiff and cold at the sight, recognition falling in her deep brown eyes. As their song-lady suddenly grew very stiff, the band looked at her with shock and disdain.

"Miranda, don't," Carol, the red-head of the group with more girth to her, grabbed her by the shoulder, "Wake up would you?"

"...I am well, Carol," Miranda said, voice cool. She stepped forward and, as per custom here, bowed her head slightly. "You need but pick a song, my lord, and I will be your humble dancer. I know all the tales of the ministerial, so you need not worry for me." 

[i]Not that you ever would,[/i] her mind said. [i]When was the last time you cared about something that wasn't yourself?[/i]

"Forgive her my lord, she's a little slow!" Claude rushed forward. "But she is correct in knowing all the tales. Would M'lord care for another legend? May'haps something more poetic?"

Miranda, for her part, refused to lower herself that far down. [I]Kiss up,[/i] she thought, but still managed to retain a smile.