(You're dancing with a fair maiden from England, wearing a bored expression behind your masquerade mask. You finally manage to slip away from her and go to one of the massive tables lining the room to get a drink. When you spot Caspian, you freeze. He's leaning against the wall, glass of wine in hand. His mask is that of an owl, but it's dangling from his fingers rather than resting on his face. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, sorrowful. When he sees you, he scowls.) Come to gawk at me?
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