James Norrington was always considered to be the man upon the dance floor which all other men envied and which every woman dreamed having his arms about her waist. He was quite the leader, one who would take his partner into his sturdy frame and accentuate her steps, however wondrous or terrible, nearly gliding across the floorboards.

Beatrice Roessler was certainly, in James' mind, one of the prettiest young women attending the ball. Her straight, long brown locks extended to the small of her back, pinned away from her face. Her chest was much exposed in her evening gown, lilac in color and highlighting her white skin.

Lady Roessler had faintly been shy as she and Norrington took the dance floor before the crowd as the first waltz initiated. Her steps were timid, awkward, short, and imprecise. Her hand gripped in a gnarly fashion at his shoulder, tensed by such force of motion. His jaw was clenched in a fashion what seemed comfortable and content to her, what drew the audience to believe all was perfect.

She would apologize as her tiny feet would clash atop his. His features never faltered, however, and he'd keep to rhythm with the steps at hand. He smiled at her, reassured her she was doing alright as a dancer. Lucky for her, her charming looks certainly made up for lack of personality. Conversation was lax between them, consisting mainly of apologizes for wrongful steps or merely of the charm of the little ballroom's decorations.

The music ceased, finally. He took her hand into his and placed his lips upon her white, satin glove.

"It's been my pleasure," he lied. She subtly nodded and turned to return to her table.

He began treading now, back to his chair, when he caught the glimpse of Thomas Bennington beside his wife and daughter across the room. He lowered his hat while they caught eyes and swiftly began in their direction.

Thomas' face illuminated as he clutched James' hand rightfully, placing his other hand atop the pair.

"How wonderful the promotion!" His voice was dancing with pride for his dear friend.

As always, James humbly flashed his white, brilliant teeth.

"My thanks, Sir."

Immediately at the conclusion of his previous statement, he tipped his hat individually to each of the two women as he spoke.

"Lady…Miss."

Thomas shuffled to James' side, appropriately following James' lead in heeding attention to the women.

"This is my wife, Linda," he stammered, "and daughter, Clara." He softly nudged James' arm with the introduction of his daughter, his eye glimmering.

"Miss Clara, perhaps you'd care to join me," he slightly leaned forward and motioned towards the couples upon the dance floor. She held her graceful arm to him; he put his strong one out to intertwine with hers.

Norrington had never been one to miss an opportunity to gain him either power or attention. He was always willing to perform whatever necessary to achieve goals, while either directly setting for them or by retrieving them by means of others. He was always one to dreadfully loathe such acts while performing them. Rather, he would imbed in his mind just what ultimate goal would be accomplished and carry on rightfully. And winning the hearts and minds of his elders was certainly a road much traveled.

Now, his second partner of the evening was rather flawless in step, minding all attention to the 1, 2, 3, 4 of the time of the music. Not once did her feet collide with his or their timing falter. In contrast to his first however, she seemed much more interested in the discussion of his tales, of accomplishments upon the sea and of his younger days. Even further detailing in this contrast, Clara Bennington was not the first woman attending such an event that one's eyes would be drawn to immediately.

She often kept her bosom tied neatly beneath her dress. Her black, bare gown was made entirely of fine, black velvet. Her face was rather square, not very much complimenting to the style in which she did her hair- tied into a tight, low bun at the nape of her neck. She rendered plain. Conversely, though, her insipid, brown eyes were warm and particularly inviting to their captor.

This time, when the music ceased he was rather content, determining his time as well spent and fully meaning the words he spoke of 'my pleasure.' --