From talking and perusing to dancing. Her partner was an interesting fellow, that much was very clear to her. Not the smell of the zee, or the stuffiness of a scholar. Cigar smoke clung to him like lice, and he hid his teeth. A curious figure, even more curious thank to his fending off of whom she was sure was a boatman. 

Then, quite curiously, he began to sing. A song of saints and sinners. Of death. Combined with the quicker dancing, it was almost as if this gentleman was trying to throw her off course. But she persevered. Just because she spent her time among city streets rather than parlours didn't mean that she did not know how to dance. Running through crowds and dancing past policemen gave you an agility that would be hard to overcome.

With the dip, and the finale of the song, Bellerose let herself dangle down, toes almost coming off the ground and unceremoniously dropping her down into the floor. "Ah, but I'd be a fool to fall in love with a mask." She let out a lighter laugh and seperated herself, spinning around a little bit and feeling her stomach strain a little to get in the air with the corset wrapped around her. "[i]Ah. Zorko. C’est un plaisir. J'mapelle Ray." [/i]A brief little curtsy.