“You don’t dance?” He asked, flashing the subtle hint of fangs when he smirked, “or you just don’t like the song?”
The song, a somber and of course very dignified ballad hung on the air like drapes and had enticed no one at all to the dancefloor. He only laughed when she sniffed at him.
“You must like to dance a great deal,” Kagome replied, irritated, “if you are willing to risk so much.”
“What am I risking?” He shrugged, making the long silver braid laying over his shoulder shine in the candlelight. Even through the mask he wore, scarlet red to match the rich fabric of his tunic, his golden eyes twinkled. “Do you not allow strangers at your banquets? Not very hospitable for a bunch of monks, if you ask me.”
“You are not a stranger, sir.” Kagome said, crisply. She folded her hands in her lap, praying the mask stayed in place, and turned pointedly away. “You are quite familiar.”
“We’ve never met,” The demon chided, the humor never dimming in his eyes. “I’d remember.”
