He moves with her, keeping in step, when his hands lightly touch her and pull her close. "Aye. My life is made up of slaughter. You ust be a seer, to use such...magic." Lightning keeps the Phantom close to him, dancing so softly and carefully. The barbarian moves deftly, pulling her towards an open space in the crowded ballroom. "Tonight, I am the direwolf known as Lightning Strike. You must be from here, yes?" The massive barbarian pulls her out of the suction cup of the group and pauses in their dance, looking almost longingly to the open sky outside. "I hate dances. Much prefer to fight. My clan never held such..." He closes his eyes and furrows his brow while searching for the word, "obnoxious rituals. Nor such a waste in food and drink." His right hand tilts her chin up at him, and the direwolf mask sinks lower, closer to her, magic buzzing against him, "And do you enjoy this?" He murmurs, before being jostled again by a giggling, drunk couple. The spell is broken and he blinks, almost as if he is surprised at the almost compromising position they are in. The direwolf stands back up and separates. "I must take a walk. Excuse me." He makes for the entrance to the ballroom, trying to clear his head of the foul magic.