Proceed to a quiet place.

Vaughn leads you through the ballroom, back to the fireplace where you originally spotted him. Either out of serendipity or unseen command the area is mostly vacant, leaving you both plenty of privacy and two plush, velvet seats facing the softly flickering fire. As you sit, you spot Vaughn’s honorguard slip subtly into the area out of the corner of your eye. They stand with backs to you, looking out over the rest of the fete.

“Have you enjoyed your evening?” Vaughn asks. He’s leaned back in his seat coolly, straight-backed with hooded eyes gazing deep into the fire. He almost looks lost in thought.

“I have,” you say. “Have you?”

“So far. The rest of it depends. {if wary = true} Have you considered what it is I’m offering? What it is I want -- for the both of us?{elseif eager = true} Are you still intending to take me up on my offer?{endif}” His eyes turn to you, and whatever looked dreamy about them before narrows into stark, almost hungry purpose, like the eyes of a wolf on a starved winter’s night.

You inwardly shudder at that stare. You feel yourself swallow, suddenly parched. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Perhaps you’d like to discuss the matter further in my quarters,” he says. “I believe we’re at the point of diminishing returns when it comes to the diplomatic benefit of either of our presences."