Three choices lay before Jeanne.
She could expose Vanitas, so he would be dragged from the party and she wouldn't have to deal with him again. As much as she wanted to kick him out, finding out that a chasseur had somehow infiltrated vampire property would do no good to the relationship of the two parties.
She could refuse his offer. Unfortunately, that would be impolite and people would ask questions. The last thing she wanted to do was to explain how did they know each other. She couldn't, at least not in front of bystanders.
Which left her with the final choice.
"Alright." She started regretting it once the words rolled out of her tongue. "I'll dance with you."
Vanitas replied with a smug smile, so bright Jeanne considered punching his face right there.
She placed her hand on top of his offered one, throwing an apologetic glance to her masters before heading for the dance floor.
It started with a tip from Dante. The vampires on this side were throwing a party, inviting Lord Ruthven who was a long-time friend of the host. Positive Jeanne would be tagging along, Vanitas managed to secure an invitation and came up with an agenda.
He was set on finding out Jeanne's side on the story.
"Last I checked, chasseurs aren't supposed to be on the guest list." Holding her dress up, Jeanne strolled along the long corridors of the great hall, coming to a stop once they reached an inconspicuous corner away from the musicians. She tried to distract herself by admiring the sculptures and painting on either side of the room, so the fact that Vanitas was holding her hand would be less obvious.
"Oh, I am none of that, mon lapin." Vanitas turned to face her, her heels compensating for their height difference so they were almost at the same eye level. "Vincent, respected merchant from Marseilles, at your service."
"Why don't you just sink into the Mediterranean?" Leaning forward, she whispered quietly into his ears with a smile on her face.
"My, my." Tracing the contour of her face with the back of his hand, Vanitas tipped her chin up to regard her properly. "Those evil words aren't meant to be used by such a pretty face."
He was, at least for this time, true to his words. Last they met, Jeanne was in her combat clothes made to ensure flexibility and her hair messy from the fight. Not that she wasn't beautiful in that, Vanitas was sure she would look stunning even in the maid's dress or man's clothing. It was another kind of beauty, one that induced fear and anticipation knowing you'd meet your end at the hands of the Hellfire Witch. Tonight was different. She was put in a sleeveless evening dress, a few shades deeper than her eyes, layers of fabric drawn to the back. If worn by any other woman, the neckline would be classified as modest but it was perhaps too plunging for Jeanne. Her hair was worn in a loose bun while keeping the braids, a few strands left hanging on each side of her face. Given there were likely few chances to see her all dressed up, Vanitas spent a few moments to admire the girl standing before him.
He thanked himself for having the thought of dressing up for the occasion so he didn't look odd dancing with her. He had acquired his suit last minute, deciding that he would need to wear it again sometime in the future. The outfits he owned were simple and plain, classic chasseur attire which would definitely stand out in this fancy party. In addition to the standard waistcoat, he requested embroidery and long tails for his coat, not overly eye-catching but something to go with his cover. He even styled his unruly long hair, twisting one side of his bangs behind his ears. With all these pretences, he doubted someone who didn't know him well could recognise him at first sight.
The musicians started playing a new piece from Strauss, a clue for them to start their waltz.
"I will let you go after one dance."
With his hand on the small of her back and hers on his shoulder, they moved along with the rhythm, stepping back and forth in perfect harmony. She turned and turned, eventually rolling back into his arms, Vanitas managing to catch her every time without fail. A chasseur and a bourreau, two of the lowest rated class in vampire society, were making an odd but fitting couple on the dance floor, oblivious to the eyes of other participants.
Jeanne, astonished by his ability to actually dance without stepping on her foot, forgot to ask her questions until they were halfway through.
"Why are you here?" Vanitas parted his lips to answer but was interrupted by her. "Don't say 'to see you'. A chas—someone like you is always after something."
"I like you. You're straightforward." His well-prepared speech was wasted, yet he was happy he could cut corners. "The thing is, I have been having nightmares about that… night, so I was wondering if you know anything about it."
All of a sudden, her eyes scanned around the room anxiously, making sure no one was within earshot of what they were about to discuss.
"Since when did the church send their chasseurs to spy in a private event?" Without yielding information, Jeanne turned their conversation into another direction.
"They didn't." Vanitas chuckled at her assumption, letting go of her hand for another spin. "Again, if you decided to pay a visit to the chasseurs, I would be a dead man."
"That surely sounds attempting." She replied absentmindedly, glancing sideways more than frequently. "I have no obligation to tell you anything other than 'get out'."
"Don't be like that, Jeanne. I'm sure you must have heard a thing or two from August Ruthven." At the mention of her master, Vanitas felt her body tense for a split second before going back to normal. Between her glances and that reaction, a realisation hit him.
"You didn't report it."
She gritted her teeth, unable to deny or respond to his accusation.
"A rebellious part of the Hellfire Witch, huh? I never imagined…"
"It wasn't like that." She defended, averting her eyes. Approaching the end of the song, they slowed down to swaying to the music, an opportunity for them to exchange secrets. "I can't, not with you being the only witness. We don't even know if it's an illusion or reality, the Senate wouldn't believe me."
"Because they are blaming it on the Vampire of the Blue Moon?" Jeanne hesitated slightly before giving Vanitas a small nod. "As expected from the old farts."
"Vanitas-" Shocked by his insult, Jeanne began her lecture but never got the chance to finish. The musicians played the final note of the piece, drawing everyone's attention by standing up to accept the round of applause. They, too, drew apart from each other to clap for the orchestra.
While Jeanne's scratches from that day must have healed in no time, Vanitas' cuts were still very visible on his arm. How old-fashioned were they to keep chasing after a ghost?
"…As if she would waste her time on voodoo." Vanitas snickered at his personal joke, his words lost in the crowd.
"Anyway, it was a pleasure dancing with you!" Catching hold of Jeanne's hands, Vanitas pulled her close and leaned down to steal a kiss from the feared bourreau.
Their lips met, out of the blue that Jeanne was unsure which was real: Vanitas – a chasseur – kissing her, or security storming into the room next door. She came to her senses as Vanitas tried to deepen the kiss and found the strength to push him away.
"That would be my sign to leave." Noticing the chaos, Vanitas bid his farewell to a flushed Jeanne, panting and wide-eyed. "You're making a fabulous face, by the way."