The air feels different, and Ilde in the midst of that throng isn't entirely sure why; not bad, she decides, it doesn't throw her off-balance, only something has changed and she feels as if she should change, too, in its direction. She'd been halfway to starting a conversation when she turns away without a warning, drifting in search of what altered her evening, and the dim bar lights catching on Ruby's hair like a candle flickering in the corner of her eye seems appropriate to the metaphor that hasn't occurred to her yet but should.

"Dance with me," she says, beaming, blue-black eyes out of place in a face that is otherwise illusion. Sometimes it makes more sense to look without a filter, but it might just be all in her mind.