Book Club, Curly: crazed, flute, rush

Showtime, A Winter's Ball: Is it a question of if, [name], or which one?

Amber's Attic: SalazarRowena

Buttons: "I'm not here for you."

Lyric Alley: Grind to the rhythm as we wine and dine.

Hamilton Mania, attending a party: champagne, "I'm not here for you."

371 words

Salazar has always hated these little gatherings. There's something so obnoxious about so many dancing bodies and women with painted faces making eyes at their intended. And yet he finds himself accepting a glass of champagne and sipping it, though he remains in the shadows and away from everyone's attention.

That doesn't stop Godric from noticing him. His old friend rushes over with a bright grin on his lips. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist, dear friend," he laughs.

"I'm not here for you," Salazar assures him, though he can't resist the smile that tugs at his lips. "I suppose you'll be searching, trying to decide if one of these women can share your bed tonight."

Godric raises his brows, smirking. "Is it a question of if, Salazar, or which one?"

It's all talk, of course. Godric has always prided himself on his chivalry and honor. The very thought of him having an intimate dalliance with a stranger is almost laughable.

"That raven haired goddess hasn't been able to take her eyes off you," Godric murmurs. "And look! She's here with Helga! How lovely."

Salazar follows his friend's gaze curiously. Sure enough, a woman with clever eyes watches him. When their eyes meet, she offers him a grin. Helga seems to notice and whispers something in the other woman's ear. A moment later, the dark haired woman makes her way over, her lithe body swaying to the gentle rhythm of the flute.

"I'll be going," Godric says, clapping him on the back. "Good luck."

And then he's gone. Salazar doesn't have a second to gather his senses before the woman reaches him. "Rowena," she says. "Helga has told me so much about you."

"Rowena?"

He knows her now. She is magical, like him. From Helga's stories, she is like the old goddess Minerva: half wisdom, half war. Salazar thinks he might be half in love already.

"Shall we?" he asks, offering her his hand.

She accepts it with a smile. "I thought you would never ask."

His heart seems to beat like a frantic, crazed thing, but he ignores it as he leads her onto the dance floor.

Perhaps these silly little gatherings are worth his time after all.