She sits at a table with her friends at a ball, sharing small talk and champagne. Gold hair so fine as to be iridescent, eyes of amber, and a dress the color of the sun, she has already sent several prospecting boys away after witnessing their poorly disguised displays of lust, played off as attempts at small talk. One more seems to have fallen prey to her bewitching looks and decides to approach.

“Pardon me miss, I couldn’t help but notice your radiant beauty,” he says with a polite smile.

Setting her glass down and sharing an amused glance with her friends, she says, “And what, may I ask, attracted you so?”

He smiles and replies, “Why, when I look at you, it is like looking upon the brightest star, and coming to the realization that all was dark before.”

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She refrains from rolling her eyes, barely, and responds, “If I am such a bright star to you, then surely you would be too blind to have noticed my beauty.”

He smirks and says, “A single glance upon you is all any man should ever hope for, and yet I find myself now wishing to hear your beautiful voice to guide me through my blindness.”

The corner of her mouth twitches in the faintest of smiles, “And should I be expected to speak always for you? What if I grow tired?”

He smiles again, “Then I should pray for you to hold my hand,” he reaches a hand out to her, “and I should pray you honor me with a dance.”

Once again looking to her friends, she notes their poorly concealed smiles and decides that this one might be worth her time after all. “Very well,” she says, and has never regretted it since.