Before Olivia could answer she was swept away and Fitz found that he was looking back into the mysterious green eyes of Cinderella. He bowed slightly as she asked to dance with him again.<br/><br/>"I do not mind, it would be my pleasure." The dance was simple and would give them time to speak, provided they were saved of any more interruptions. "I believe I was just about to say something about France before the dance separated us. I do not quite recall what it was, I suspect it had to do with their ability on the battlefield. Though that, I suppose, is not a conversation you would wish to have."<br/><br/>Fitz suddenly found himself without much to say. He was used to the quiet teehee of a courtier, or the loud conversations over brandy about this battle or this arranged marriage. When he had disguised himself to blend in with the rabble he had conversed about the price of hay.<br/><br/>"What interests you Miss Cinderella?" He watched her eyes, ever curious as to what thoughts lay behind them. He could see she wasn't a doll, so instead what was she?