Her ale is finished before Felix makes his observation about dancing. She sets the mug aside and leans on the table slightly, giving him a wry smile as she does so. "Strangers don't ask questions. They don't remember the name you gave at the end of an evening of drinking. They don't even care if there's violence involved in your interactions. Strangers care only about themselves. Among them, I can get in and out without really being noticed."

Her attention turns to the dance floor, where one of the other patrons is trying to rouse up some interest in an organized dance. The man lacks any real skill or crowd presence, though, so the suggestion falls flat quickly and he finds himself forced to single out a partner for a dance instead. "I'm more at ease with people who won't remember me when the morning comes," she adds. "It's easier to move through all levels of social standing if no one can recall who I am when I've left their sight."