Acheron was talking with a group of notables, including the groom. A pleasant conversation, occasional laughter coming from the group. They seemed to be having a good time as they talked, being poured wine and such. Yet, after a while, the halls were silenced and the performing group silenced themselves.
The dance of the bride and groom. A glance affirmed his suspicions, someone else had asked his prey to dance. Unforgivable. A weak-willed mind. His primary objective was not the joy of dance or company. No. The disgusting thing wanted to touch his prey, sleep with her. A disgusting and vile man such as him. The very nerve. It was unforgivable. Acheron looked forward as the bride and groom started their first dance. His smile widened only a slight bit as the man that asked Flavia to dance grew pale, apologised and left without a word. A haunting image was what placed in his mind, one that sickened him. One that threatened his dear old and beloved mother.
Acheron put on his oblivious guise, glancing at Flavia, arching an eyebrow and walking over. "Seems like your partner left, my lady.." He merely stated softly with a gentle smile. He looked back at the dancefloor as the bride and groom finished their dance. Acheron raised his hands from his cloak, starting to clap. Soon, the entire hall was applauding the two.
Yet, the applause slowly died down as more people joined on the dancefloor. "May I have this dance, Lady Bathory-Syron?" He asked, bowing slightly, extending his open palm for her to be guided towards the dancefloor if she accepted it, his other hand folded behind his back.