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To see a mouse tugging at the bright locks of Joachim's hair made Taryn giggle again. Honestly, she would have sat down just then if he had only said no, or even sounded more dejected... or if she were listening to the lyrics of the song playing. Instead she heard a strong beat and a silly rhythm, and she grinned up at her date as she offered him her hand again.

"Come on! I'm no good, but it's fun!" As if to prove her point, Taryn bounced into the outskirts of the dance floor, her hands raising over her head. It was clear that she had no idea what she was doing, but at least she was having fun! She reached out both hands to Joachim. "Come on!"

"Y'only pinned me cuzza that," West said, gesturing broadly at her tail. "The thing's'as bad as usin' FEAR." He calmed himself again, clenching his hand into a fist and bringing it around behind him. "But you'll get yers. I'll show ya dancin'." He had plans.

"Nothin' wrong wit' bein'ere with me," he said, smiling faintly at Holly. "I'ma get some dessert. Fer you too. Not you." He pointed a quick-bitten finger from the hand that wasn't behind his back at Levi, then turned and huffed back over to the buffet.

The careful expression Riley had cultivated faltered as the cookie crumbled, but the facade resumed almost instantly. She even managed to keep the mask in place when he pulled her from her seat, though the feel of leaving it was heart-wrenching. Malodore was still beside her, and Jericho was ready to pop any second - the last thing she wanted to do was leave that one, comfortable spot.

Her body was rigid against his, a perfect statue of cold, hard marble. There was no sweetness wasted on him.

How many years did we have together, Andy, and yet now, you ask me for our first dance? Talk about waiting until the last minute.

Riley had snaked both of her hands out of his hold and onto his chest, and placed a forceful shove square upon it. Before he could stumble back to her, she was already turning to walk towards the dance floor of her own volition. Her eyes, bright with warning, flickered to both Jericho and Malodore as she passed.

She paused, on the steps of the dance floor, as a strain of the lyrics finally emerged, and tilted her head to one side.

Ohh. I get it now. She paused on the top step, arms folded in amusement. A wishful thinking song. That's so sweet.

The other ghoul seemed rather polite. Marzena thought. Still, it wasn't easy to decide just yet. It was either that she was sent here because of that naivety or her nature was a deceiving one.

Nevertheless to say, Marzena couldn't trust anyone very easily. Not after that whole debacle with her own mother and then that jackdamned witch...

"It's alright." She said to Vaith, trying to sound as polite as possible. "And no, I don't have a date. At least I'm not the only one." She murmured that last sentence, tilting her head towards the sulky looking Cerberus brother.

"First grinding, now a food fight?" She remarked, eyes drifting to where Xiu was. Marzena had a very serious urge to facepalm right now.

With a sort of grimace, Jericho watched Riley go off with Andeon. He couldn't really believe she accepted it but he wasn't going to fight against it. His friend wouldn't be doing this unless she knew what she was doing. Even so, he was going to watch them very carefully if he could.

Hearing an extremely vague familiar voice, the dragon glanced to the side, surprised to see Christof there. He stared at the Igor momentarily, as he actually spoke to him.

Come to think of it, the hunchback had spoken once before too. It still didn't make this any less jarring.

Deciding not to ask about that, he shook his head to himself and glanced towards the two Illithids.

"I'm guessing he's trying to throw Riley's game, but she's alright," he explained lowly, "She's keeping her cool and her game up from what I can tell. She can handle him. I doubt he'll try to do anything big here... if he does, we'll be onto him before he could harm one of her tentacles."

Man, those tentacle people sure were weird. It looked like she was obviously busy...doing SOMETHING with the tentacle boil. It looked a lot more like fighting than dancing though.

She watched Christof run off to talk to the bat winged boil, another fitness club member. Huh. Maybe the other tentacle thing was a friend of theirs. He looked awfully excited about it, anyway. She hovered around the table, content to watch events unfold from her vantage point for now.

"Thould... thould we thtay clothe jutht in cathe?" Christof hissed urgently, looking far too terrified and worried to even think about asking to sit down. "I don't trutht him, ewen if you think the thinkth the can handle him!"

Riley would not be led, and Andeon would have expected nothing less. His amusement was palpable. His desire to grab her by the tentacles and swing her like a baseball bat at Jericho's head, even moreso. Violence ran in Andeon's blood the way manipulation ran in hers. He was not gentle, and she was not kind.

Yet they defended her, never knowing how she used them.

Bum, bum, bum, bummmm- Andeon hummed as he followed her, his deep tone resonating like a bass drum in her mind.

It was... impressive. Of course, she always had been. They had fought for days, and in the throes of death itself had forged an understanding. Her Fear was stronger than his, perhaps it always would be, but it didn't matter. If she tore him apart, another would come, and there would be no amount of Fear or fight to save her then. However much she might loathe him, the alternative was worse.

Much, much worse.

I believe it was sixteen, the Illithid responded as he took her hand, and with a hard tug swung her gracefully back into his arms. They moved together in a spin, in sync as though they could read one another's thoughts. Predict each others movements. He watched as her eyes flickered to her friends, to the perpetually PMSing dragon boy and the strange beaked creature. There was a meaning in that look, and it was not lost on Andeon. Those were not the looks one gave when playing pretend. Very little was lost on Andeon when it came to Aen'ryliis.

Sixteen years.

Your charms do not work on me, my dear, he said, his forehead tilted so that it touched her own. His eyes were narrowed, the glow preventing any emotion from showing in them. The music picked up, and their movements with it. Long tentacles wrapped around her waist and his own, and even had Riley been so undignified as to put up a fight in so public a place, it would have done little good.

Your lies do not stick, your face does not allure, your words do not entreat. I know you, love. I know how you look when you're on the edge of death. I know the way your blood tastes. Oh, Aen' ryliis. Wishful thinking is not my game.

He spun, and dipped her slender frame low with surprising grace. Those clawed feet left light scratches in the floor where he danced. His claws dug into her spine, just enough to verge on breaking the skin.

When I get you, you'll know, he echoed the song, but there was nothing lighthearted about it.

No, he was certainly not gentle.