"The son of Lord Eldigan, I presume? Fancy meetin' you here."
This guessing game of who-was-who's-kid had become a staple of Lewyn's time at the academy, and so for the Ethereal Ball he finally felt confident in walking up to people to offer that sort of opening.
"Knowing him I'd have expected you to be brooding in a corner. But here you are, lookin' sharp as a blade. Care to join me for a dance?" An arm is offered to Ares, inviting him to join the bard. If he looked closely, he'd be able to notice Lewyn's card tucked neatly in his sleeve. The top of it peeked out, as if to tell the Nordian that he'd get his stamp after they hung out. Lewyn was coy when it came to interacting with people like this, but he considered it just part of the fun for the night.
"I can lead, if you ain't comfortable."
Ah, the most fool-proof way to grab Ares' attention.
“You knew my father?” Ares blurts out without even thinking. He hadn’t known Lewyn to be acquainted with either of his parents. That said, he had known precious little of the man during the war. He’d behaved very differently, something that’s a little confusing right now. Ares decides not to dwell on it too much. He himself is far more relaxed and sociable than he usually is. “No, brooding in a corner is definitely more my thing than my father’s.”
“I’m perfectly comfortable leading. I learned from the best, after all.” Under his best friends instruction, he’d risen from having two left feet to being a fairly competent dancer. Hopefully good enough to make her proud. “I never said I’d dance with you though, did I?” Ares smirks.
“Is that the price for your stamp? If so I suppose I can spare you a few minutes.”