Her thespian skills were beyond what I had expected, to my delight and the uproarious approval of the boisterous crew. Were this a normal pub or a late-night party at a house of nobility, I would have been worried the men might get a bit overzealous, but as it were they knew not to touch a member of the Inquisitor's retinue, and I believe Emmaline understood that as well. I could tell she was the type of person to take advantage of any situation she found herself in, and I couldn't blame her. 

Earlier I had gained a modicum of respect for her, but now I was just impressed. I considered myself a jack of all trades as any good inquisitor should be, for we don't ever know what situation we'll find ourselves in. But she was multi-talented just by being herself, and I had a difficult time thinking of Inquisitors that could command a room like that. None of this translates to the field, but not everything was ground work. 

I was enjoying her dance despite myself, but as it turned to the mildly scandalous, I dare say I was as enraptured as the rest of the men. Truth be told, I think I hooted with the others. In fact it was so nice to watch, I did not hear Lazarus approach, which was wholly unusual. Lazarus, like all Skitarri rangers, had his lower legs cut off and replaced with prostheses of inviolate alloy. And whilst that gave them near-unlimited endurance, when not in combat mode, even considering their footsteps were more muted due to synthetic fibers, they walked slightly heavier than the average man. Particularly noticeable on a steel ship. 

"I sense your body heat is slightly above average, with increased blood flow." He said, giving me a start. I blinked and looked at him, having known the skitarii long enough to tell when he was mocking me when speaking in his neutral tone. "Do you require medical aid?" 

"Shut up, Laz." I said defensively, turning from him as if that ended it.  

"Perhaps Miss Von Morganstern also has curative knowledge of human anatomy-" 

"If you don't stop talking, I'll pour my amesec into your bare circuits." I said without turning to look at him. He knew I was serious, so to his credit be buttoned what he would consider his lip. I waited a few more moments before I pinched the bridge of my nose and asked. "Did you need something, Lazarus?" 

"I believe the artifact we found was of xenos quality, not merely a chaos item." 

I turned to him sharply, all embarrassment having flown from me. How could that be the case, when the item itself was in the hands of mutated heretics, and the visions Von Morganstern had given me were as ruinous as any daemon I've seen? I knew both the alien and the daemon needed to be burned, but it was entirely different to think the two might have fused in any capacity. "You're sure of this?" 

"It matches what we know of the abominable intelligence known as the Necrons. The connection with chaos is unknown, save for the markings being a perfect match to what we know of the quasi-species and the great enemy wanted it." He considered it for a moment, and knew I wouldn't have much luck thinking about it here. I dismissed Lazarus, who began to walk away, before turning back to regard me. "Studies have shown that time not spent on a task can provide positive results in your mental state and ability to reason." 

"What?" 

"Have a good time tonight, Hadrian. Worry on it tomorrow." He advised, and walked away without saying another word. I watched my friend depart, and realized with unease that he was right. Perhaps a night without worry or consideration would do me good, and so I used what mental discipline I had to push the implications of the xenos menace out of my head for the time being. We still had a few terran days before we reached Moldar, anyway. 

Once I turned back, Emmaline had begun gyrating on the table before performing her flip. I made a strangled sound as her legs went over her head, remembering how much she had drunk and seeing her teetering, though roughly she landed on her feet at the exact spot she had begun. I shook my head with a helpless smile, and raised her hand with my own. 

"Trì breachanann!" I cried, which roughly translated to 'three cheers!' The men clambered and clapped, hollering and getting up. The servitors continued their bumping of the table, whether by a glitch or design, and the men took it as a sign to start cavorting and dancing amongst themselves. With a smoothness that I only really used for acts of subterfuge, the hand I had on Emmaline's lowered her arm and cradled it in a gentlemanly fashion.   

"Care to dance?" I asked her with a grin. 

She considered me for a moment, and with a touch of the theatrical, she raised her nose and turned away from me in mock snobbery, before suddenly spinning into me like a whirring dervish. I expertly weaved her past me until she hung fifty degrees over the ground on my opposite side, held up by my hand clasping hers. Idly I thought she might have really been attempting to throw me off to see if I had what it took, but I knew she would be pleasantly surprised. Before I was inducted into the Inquisition, my late mother had spent a good amount of money for dancing lessons, as dancing was a wildly popular past time on Elysiar, my homeworld. Some people called it "the lucky man's death world" or "catachan's little brother," as it was a strange mixture of civilization and dangerous organic life. A death world is technically classified in the administorum as a world where human survival was a daily struggle, and the humans there could rarely advance past small borders or little groups. Cities tended to be non-existent on such planets. Elysiar's flora and fauna were extremely dangerous, but the humans on the planet had innovated and had been indomitable enough to actually turn the planet into what was classified as a 'civilized world,' which caused a weird juxtaposition of high culture and a normalcy of human mortality. Men and women were educated but fatalistic, they lived fast and died young, and whilst I had most of the cavorting spirit hammered out of me, there was still vestiges of an animal within. An animal who could dance with the best of them.