'Perhaps that glass of whiskey wasn't smart before a ball. These young ladies all smell like flowers,' The Viscount couldn't help but sigh to himself, rubbing his temple while he leaned against the wall of the overly flower-decorated ballroom of the.. which family was hosting this affair? God, he couldn't even remember. He had picked up a random invitation from his pile of letters and chosen to come. Had he danced yet? Goodness no. Every eager chit in the place smelled of roses, lilacs, or lavender of all things. His head was pulsing from it all.

His thoughts were pulled from his dismay by a heavy-handed greeting on the shoulder by... ah, Lord Feder, the Baron of.. he didn't recall.

"Halpory! I didn't expect to see you here! I don't think you've attended any balls since the season started, and it's been almost a month! You know, you should come by my estate and we should chat over a glass of brandy, my treat!" The burly Baron was loud. Much too loud. It made Dorian's head pulse even worse. He needed to get away, he couldn't deal with a man who spit on his T's.

"Yes, yes, I'll see when I am free," Dorian muttered, patting the Baron's shoulder as he pushed himself off the wall. "But if you'll excuse me I believe I must talk to someone. Good day, Feder," He excused himself before briskly moving between the chatting guests, muttering small excuse me's and patting greetings to whoever tried speaking to him.

'Where is the door of this god-forsaken place?' He groaned inwardly, bringing his hand up to rub his face before he collided with someone. He stumbled for only a moment, catching the other person by the arm as well to steady the two of them. 'Oh, a lady,' He realized, releasing them and taking a small step back. 'She is very pretty,' He bowed his head in apology. "You must excuse. I was not watching where I was going, miss..?" He tilted his head for an introduction. Her eyes were captivating. 'And she doesn't smell of flowers.'