The crowd of celebrities clapped enthusiastically as Hunt waited for his head to stop spinning. He managed to lean down and whisper in M/C's ear without overbalancing. "You learn quickly. I wish you were one of my students." He smiled a little to himself. It would indeed be nice if M/C's normal self could be replaced by this mysterious, flirtatious person with whom he did not have a long, antagonistic relationship. Although, if he didn't know it was M/C, and if that relationship wasn't there, he had to admit that this would be a lot less fun.

"So… you're a teacher?" M/C asked.

"I— I suppose I can't back out of that one," Hunt answered, still playing the game. It was much too late to back out now. "Yes, I teach at a local university."

Another slow waltz started up. It had an irregular tempo that made dancing difficult, but by pulling M/C close—he told himself that was why he did it—he still managed to sweep her along in time. They fell into a comfortable rhythm.

"Any interesting students?" M/C asked lightly.

How had she still not realized that he knew? Her acting was just as good as her directing but she was dropping hints like a breadcrumb trail. "Most of my students are mediocre at best, but there's one… M/C…" Her eyes lit up a little at the sound of her name and he smirked as he realized what he was going to say. "From day one, M/C was the most insubordinate, disrespectful, infuriating—"

"Wait, wait, wait," M/C interrupted before he could pick up too much steam, her steps faltering. "This M/C must have some redeeming qualities, right? It seems to me like there's more to this student than what you're saying. Doesn't M/C have passion?" Her mouth was set in a hard line

"I suppose M/C is passionate…" Hunt admitted, realizing that that particular word had never occurred to him. Passionate. Yes, the word expressed the mixture of hard determination and bubbly enthusiasm which M/C radiated. "I've never seen anyone care so much about school projects since, well, me. And I admit, passion is important in this town. Without it, you can burn out like that." He emphasized his point with another spin, less dramatic than the first but equally unexpected. He caught a glimpse of M/C's self-satisfied smile as she twirled away from him, still perfectly in time, and it was gone by the time she was back in his arms.

"But I digress. M/C is just a student, and I'd much rather focus on you at the moment." Or this alternate version of you, he added silently. He wanted to keep pretending.

"No arguments there!" she agreed with alacrity.

The waltz ended and they stepped apart, Hunt bowing stiffly and M/C with a graceful curtsey. Then the orchestra picked up a lively tune with barely a pause. An enthusiastic murmur spread through the crowd as the dancers began assembling into two lines.

"It looks like we're doing a group dance. Follow my lead," Hunt said quickly as the people around them began dancing. He gripped M/C's waist tightly, then her hands as they stepped around each other, then her waist again so that he could guide her through the complicated footwork. She laughed brightly at her own missteps and followed his lead as well as she could. Her laughter was contagious and soon he too was smiling. "One, two, three… one, two, three… now switch!" And with a flick of his wrists, his confused student was stumbling towards her next dance partner: a tall man in a graphite grey suit.

"Oh!" she exclaimed through her giggles as she seized the man's hands. Hunt looked up at his partner, a redhead who towered over him in her heels. Her face was half-concealed by a pale pink mask with black lace.

"Um, hello," he heard M/C say uncertainly to his right.

As the dance went on Hunt lost track of all his partners' faces. Each time he turned he glanced around to look for M/C's figure. Sometimes he found her, her black and scarlet skirt swinging above her long legs as she masterfully executed the dance which had made her stumble a few minutes before. Sometimes she was lost in the midst of the swirling dresses.

When the music finally faded away Hunt was surrounded by strangers. He bowed distractedly to his last partner—a woman with emerald hair but a surprisingly plain black dress—and set off in a halfhearted attempt to find M/C.

How terrible would it be to just leave? He had made his donation, he had danced with M/C, he had even enjoyed himself, albeit briefly. He could leave now and go back to his flat to gulp down another glass of scotch before—what? Reading another chapter of the dry historical analysis he had started the previous week? Watching television interviews with celebrities and only being able to see M/C sitting in their places, some years in the future and wildly successful?

A bitter taste rose on the back of Hunt's tongue. No, he was having a good time, damn it, and he was going to continue doing so. He jumped a little when someone tapped him on the shoulder. "What?" He spun to see M/C, looking slightly taken aback at his abrupt reaction. "Oh, there you are. I was looking for you after the dance." Or I was going to.

"But I found you first," M/C said with more than a hint of pride. "It was easy enough to… what did you say earlier? 'Analyze the nuances of your physicality and behavior.' I simply trusted my instincts."

"Very impressive," Hunt commented drily. But before his nervousness or his sarcasm could run away with him, he reached out and gently took M/C's hand. "Come with me."

Hunt threaded his way through the crowded ballroom, feeling the slight pull of M/C's hand behind him. He glanced back once to make sure that she was still following, and she gave him a quick smile and tightened her grasp. His heart stuttered and he was sure not to look back again; he felt like Orpheus leading Eurydice from the underworld. Finally, they reached a small balcony. Hunt pulled M/C out through the French doors and then eased them shut behind her.

The sun had just set and the sky was a deep lavender. The ocean stretched out away from them, indigo waves rolling restlessly and occasionally reflecting a streak of pink or orange. A cool sea breeze blew steadily, causing M/C to cross her arms, but they both stood in silence for a minute or so as dusk fell around them. Muted laughter and conversation melded into the general susurrus of the evening.

When he had successfully swallowed his cowardice, Hunt raised his hands to untie the fine string which secured his mask. It came away easily in his hand and for a moment all he cared about the way the brisk air felt against his warm face. Then he turned to face M/C. "Disappointed?"

"Not at all," she said softly. It wasn't a flirtation as he had feared, not a shallow comment on his jawline or nose. He was "revealing" himself, and she did not mind. She would probably do the same in a minute. He still had not decided what he would do.

Not even the sounds of the party penetrated the following silence. There was only the crashing of the surf on the rocks beneath the balcony.

"So tell me, Thomas…" M/C eventually said, her voice still quiet. Why did her almost-whispers send shivers down his spine? "Is this masquerade living up to your expectations?" Her voice never did this to him when she was sassing him in class or on set.

Hunt could only stare at her for a minute while chose his words. "It has exceeded them many times over."

"That must be a first."

"Indeed it is…" For a social event, in any case. If there was one person who consistently defied his expectations it was her. In a flash of impulsiveness Hunt grabbed both of M/C's hands. She looked up at him, a gentle smile playing across her lips in the shadow of the evening. "You are definitely the best part of the night. I wasn't expecting to meet someone like you. I can sense something about you, a connection…"

And he did. From the first time she had strode into his class, obviously inexperienced beyond belief and yet so full of confidence, he had seen himself in her. But she had the determination and steadfast confidence to make a career last rather than burning out in one terrible flare of popularity. She was forging friendships to last a lifetime, building skills that would serve her well wherever in Hollywood she found herself, and yet taking daring risks which were advancing her reputation in leaps and bounds.

"I never thought I'd feel this strongly about someone I just met, but I can't seem to stop myself," Hunt admitted in a great rush as all of these thoughts presented themselves to him in a jumbled sense of admiration. She was suddenly pressed flush against him and his arms were around her waist. She was everything that he used to be and more, and all too soon she would surpass him. He knew that. His chest clenched in a way that made it suddenly difficult to breathe.

He brushed three fingertips against her cheek, tilting her head up so that their eyes were locked. She is too good for you. The thought finally solidified into something he could express, a reason for all of his confused resentment.

Hunt took a deep breath and leaned forward in a swift movement before his rational thought could catch up. She jutted out her chin at the last second so that their mouths collided rather harder than he had expected, her soft lips crushing against his thin ones as a rush of adrenaline tore through him. His arm around her waist tightened and he moved the other one to wrap behind her shoulders, pulling her as close to him as possible.

They held that position for what seemed like several minutes. The distant crackle of fireworks heralded the end of the sunset and a few people down on the beach whooped and applauded. M/C sighed happily against his mouth as their lips lazily fought. She was just as adept at kissing as she was at dancing. She was… intoxicating.

All too soon Hunt pulled back, doubt and regret already reaching their cold fingers into his warmed heart. How in hell's name was he going to recover from this? He needed to know whether this alter ego of hers was going to remain, or whether he had kissed the M/C he knew.

Hoping that she could read the layered nuances of his question, he gulped. "Please… I have to know who you are…"

"There's only one way to find out," she said quietly, and he knew that she was preparing herself for the worst. Because he had always yelled at her, always criticized, always expected more than she could reasonably give. She thought that this was her last moment as a mysterious stranger rather than a hated student—and to a certain extent, she was right.

But he never hated her.

He held her gaze with his, wishing that he could apologize without revealing that he knew her. His arms lifted slowly and deliberately of their own volition to undue the cord which held her mask in place. She tilted her head up. The contours of her face were illuminated by the continued bursts of red and gold down the beach, and she was beautiful.

Hunt breathed in. He exhaled. He drew his mouth in to a snarl and lowered his eyebrows. "M/C! How dare you?"

"What?" she asked, her mouth falling open.

"You lied to me! You deceived me! You… seduced me!" he spat bitterly.

M/C's expression hardened. "Oh please! Some part of you knew it was me!" She threw out her hands expressively. "Even if you didn't consciously know it, deep down you hoped it was me! You wanted it to be me!"

"Ha! Why would I want you to be someone I despise? Someone I don't respect?" Hunt forced himself to take a step back. "You're the last person I'd want to see behind that mask."

M/C stepped forward, matching him. "And what about the fact that up until two seconds ago, you were completely into me? You fell for me! There was nothing clouding your judgment then, just your raw feelings. Admit it!"

It was a struggle to find words to respond. She was completely correct. "There's nothing to admit. This argument is pointless. I can't be involved with a student."

"Can't? Or won't?"

Neither, you stubborn idiot. "I meant what I said."

"Then I guess this is goodbye." M/C grabbed her mask out of his hands and spun on her heel, starting to stride away, but Hunt panicked. He jogged after her and grabbed her arm.

"Wait!" She turned to look at him, eyes shining with unshed angry tears. Didn't she understand why this wasn't possible? "Just… just wait, M/C."

Hunt leaned towards her and she tilted her chin so that they were looking directly at each other. Images flickered through his head, the result of each frightening. Kiss her—and be forced to deal with the consequences. Apologize—and lead her on when he knew that this couldn't work.

He straightened and stepped back, trying desperately to throw his walls back up even as his face became neutral.

"Professor?" M/C asked, cautious.

"We can't cross this line." His throat constricted. "Forget this happened. Nothing changes."

"What are you saying? That this whole night was a mistake?" Her bold exterior was slipping further and further. Maybe this really wasn't a game to her. Maybe there was some kind of foundation here—

"You're still my student. I'm still your professor." And this is for the best.

M/Cgestured as though brushing away his words. "I know that! But was it a mistake?"

There was no answer. He may have connected with someone more deeply than he had in years, but then again he should never have allowed it to happen. As though his last romantic relationship had not been warning enough, now he was falling for one of his students.

He was falling for her.

He turned and began walking away.

"Answer me!" The words sounded almost desperate. He had never seen M/C this unguarded. His shoulders stiffened as he realized that there was no way to make this a clean break. He had to give her some small idea of what he felt, or else he would never live down the regret. "Do you think it was a mistake?"

"I didn't say that…"

He didn't look back again—physically, anyway. He already knew that he would be analyzing his actions and words and thoughts for weeks or months or years. The only way he would sleep that night was after several drinks.

M/C's long sigh was cut off as the French doors swung shut behind him.