[JennyHallu]

As Farael walked back to the table with her hairpin, Losse stalked behind him, furious at the self-satisfied way he walked. He probably thought that was very clever and smooth, pushing me over and pulling my hair, she fumed silently, glaring back at anyone who glanced her way and caressing the handle of the blade she kept in her sleeve. She'd almost flipped it out on the dance-floor in her anger, only the milling feet of the other dancers trying to get out of the way of her fall reminding her just how bad an idea that would be.

Farael handed her hairpin to the Elven lady, who was now talking to another elf, with what Losse was sure he thought was a courtly bow. Too many people...she satisfied herself with rudely and bitterly critiquing his form to herself.

The man left soon afterward, and Losse made her apologies quickly to the Elven lady, who did not seem to even notice she was there, nor even the hairpin she had set back down on the table, so engrossed was she in her companion and in the flower she twirled in her fingers, muttering to herself in Elvish. Losse palmed the hairpin, and followed quickly after Farael, apologizing angrily to those she elbowed in her haste. The band started a new set and Losse's steps became more graceful as she unconsciously walked in a near dance with the infectious music, but it didn't erase the stormy cloud brewing in her sea-gray eyes. A horrible mess involving a cat and a punch bowl had gathered quite a crowd between the guest tables at the edge of the courtyard and the inn, and it was there that she was able to catch up with Farael, gripping his elbow and spinning him around with more strength than her slim frame appeared to have.

"Can I speak with you?" she hissed angrily, indicating that they should go indoors. "Alone? I would let you explain your rudeness on the dance floor, which is more than I ought to do."