Originally, I had desired nothing more than a few moments with Serafina in the ultimately fabulous mood I had not arrived it, but I had acquired through a conversation with a werewolf who I had assumed would have pinned a wanted poster on every board near her, and a price on my head. I had wronged her using a knife that was ultimately hers. Without much other rumination on the prior episode involving the woman, Tobias had stepped in and more or less bridged a gap I had assumed was too wide to make any sort of amends. He did this with a slap to the head that he had explained to me women provided men with when they were unhappy with events. Feminine nature often seemed very feline to me, and with a mental shrug I chalked his behavior up to an amusing interaction and decided to sashay off to my own desires. I had noted the witch was here, and I had wanted nothing more than a few moments with her. Although potentially fueled by the champagne I had taken to drinking earlier, I had a bounce to my step that Serafina would not have seen before. Our stolen moments had been doused in discomfort, violence, and... Okay, in my defense, adventure is a little dangerous!

...Okay, more than a little.

I had noted the Hunter's presence with her before, but paid it little mind. What would a hunter want with a witch? That question was rebutted by the obvious: because the witch was engaging and more than stunning. It was a choice to ignore the Hunter, now, and focus on the witch herself. I had finished my glass of champagne before approaching Serafina, dropping my glass on a floating waiters tray before arriving, the bubbly buzz an absolute wonder that I hadn't achieved in a bit, putting me into this good of a mood. At my suggestion of a dance, I heard the crack of the chair behind the Hunter nearby, finding my eyes narrowing and a very, very slow smirk slithering its way across my features. Ah, so he had noticed I was ignoring him. And he didn't like any of it.

At his remark, I shut my eyes briefly to consider the words. I was breaking a dress code? Of course I wasn't. But in his eyes, of course I was. I had enough (ha, more than enough) of an income that it was never a worry about a taste in clothing; as expensive as my tastes were, it was obvious. I was dressed impeccably, outshining whatever clothes he had donned and therefore I knew the contempt was paired with the broken chair that lay in waste behind him. Could the weres smell the testosterone? The thought of Tobias trying to smell the air made the champagne in me bubble, causing the wry humor to fuel a bright smile instead of a smirk.

I turned to face the Hunter, eyebrow cocked deviously but with a smile so obviously it's opposite. All of my actions were slow, deliberate, but fluid and with an elegance that he wouldn't be able to mistake. With an etcentric wave of a hand to ignore his assumed name, I shook my head and offered a hand to shake his.

"Actually, I prefer Tom Riddle. Sadly, we haven't met before, but I'm sure you've heard of me. Most house elves have." My words were nonchalant, the humor of my smile and words absolutely not meeting my eyes. Clearly, I had hit a nerve by asking the woman to dance. And dear Lord, I wanted to hit every nerve he was offering so blatantly with a vulnerability that only that kind of contempt could show.

Maybe I could blame my words on the alcohol.

"I simply asked the woman to dance," I offered, my eyebrows rising innocently. "Surely that isn't the 'attendance' code you're speaking of." Attendance code. My ass. It wasn't even hard to keep a good humor about the situation, as his actions were so easy to rebuke with simple words and a lack of threat. I had uncrossed my arms to all but rub in his face that I was incredibly non-threatening, but that was not reflected in my eyes. They darkened, the typically exotic and bright blue of my eyes sliding towards white. White signified the maniacal desires slipping through my mind, treading water and waiting to suck whoever was floating to a depth.

"Now be a good little elf and clean up your mess," I said softer, the humor still present in my voice but the smile began to fade. His threat was impending, but a stab wound? Try metal, dear hunter. See where that gets you. I had ample time and ample surroundings as fodder for a momentary plan should it be necessary. With a resigned sigh, I grit my teeth and shifted my gaze from Serafina, to the brunette with Raven I had come to know as Alexis the healer. Perhaps I should simply walk away, disregard the what ifs and could be.

Let's be real, though. When did I ever do the convenient? And more importantly as apparently I am Tom Riddle: when did Voldemort do as he was told? ... better yet, when did I learn who Voldemort was? I better drink champagne more often.

"Serafina, you look stunning and I would have loved a dance with you. Perhaps dear old Dobby might give you the dance you wanted," I said gently to her, before shifting my gaze back to the hunter in front of me. Give him a reason to stab me? Part of me â€" no, okay. All of me wanted to, but it was far better to deny the idiot what he wanted in order to prove I was better at whatever game we were about to start playing. My voice was equally as quiet when I spoke to him, but there was none of the gentleness present.

"I pity the day you try." The words held more than a challenge, and after they were spoken, the corner of my lips turned up into a wicked half smile. I took a step aside, as she was still close enough to gently take her hand and place my lips against in a gossamer kiss, my eyes raised to hers with a mischevious glint. "I owe you a large debt I intend to pay, but I also owe you a date. I'll see you soon."

It was easy to turn and leave after that, and even easier to use the power so innate to me now, to melt the metal of his knives against him as I made my exit.