"Hello Miss Cinderella, I assume I don't have to introduce myself." A small smile crossed his face. He had seen a flash cross her own face when she realized who he was. He had seen it enough times to recognize it. How many times had he wandered into a bar disguised and reveled himself. That look he treasured.<br/><br/>The dance would end soon. He didn't have much time. From the beat he figured he might have to switch partners one more time. That gave him a handful of measures with Cinderella to figure her out. What brought her here? Who was she? He could almost sense his father's ears perking up at Fitz's interest in a woman. It wasn't a complete anomaly, but what was to be expected? Fitz had learned so early on that the girls dressed up and paraded around him were empty shells, dolls, parrots taught to repeat a dozen phrases. Fitz had grown immune to their phrases. He had grown tired of the dolls. Dolls as he called the empty headed people he was surrounded by.<br/><br/>"That is an unusual name, where is it from? Or rather where are you from?" Cinderella...she held herself just differently enough. Her chin at an angle not quite the same as all the other dolls. Her shoulders not exactly placed. The red cheeks from the attention. Now if only she wasn't a fool, a parrot, maybe for the first time in the years since his mother's passing he could have an intelligent conversation with a woman that wasn't in some bawdy bar (and even those were of questionable intelligence). Fitz was known for his lack of caring toward people and that cold attitude had been born from his mother's death.