It's a gorgeous performance. Indeed, as they leave the theater she realizes that she has possibly been a terrible companion -- something in the blood her sire gave her makes the performance of such a cherished art form call to her (like some endlessly reenacted nostalgia, maybe? she doesn't over-wonder at it, only delights in the enthrallment, at being powerless before such perfect beauty). Her only regret, once the curtain closes, is that perhaps the sheer excess of her enrapture may have made her look foolish before one of the few sophisticated gentlemen she's yet met in this city.

Truly, it has been a relief to find Aimery here in Baedal: with every law she once lived by shaken and turned on its head by the absence of the Masquerade, Aimery's gentle, elegant formality feels like a return to civilization.

She turns to him, covering her embarrassment at her behavior in the theatre with self-deprecation. "I don't suppose I need to convince you that I enjoyed the performance."