Moargen's eyes widen briefly before she catches on to your tone. "Cast into the sea, I should think. 'These rude dilettantes are too talentless to live!'" Her aristocratic tone sets you grinning.
Your footsteps echo over top of each other in the narrow hallways. The pregnant silence smacks of an opportunity, your first best chance at a tête-à-tête with the dancer. But she speaks before you do, with a measuring glance.
"So, then…did Timshel present you his paper yet?"
You nearly miss a step. This is hardly what you expected to discuss.
She shakes her head as you explain what transpired. "What a cad he is, taking advantage that way. I nearly signed myself, before I happened to mention it to Joan and she steered me clear."
You frown.
"He said everyone signed."
"Aaron and Gitel did, but they've no interest in performing outside these walls."
"I take it you do?"
Moargen looks up, a smile playing across her face. "That's a matter for another day," she says.
She winks at you and you can't restrain a small sigh. If you want to act while you have a private moment with her, you reason, now would be a marvelous time to do so. But first, you need to decide what exactly you want from her…