[ At first he thinks they have the same mask, or one similar enough in shape that he's intrigued by her from across the room. But upon closer inspection, closer together at the bar, Angelo realises that it's her hair making the shape of horns, her hair or simply the shape of her skull. Angelo's own horns are a product of his mask, burnished gold and unmistakably demonic, but after the initial panic of not being able to get the thing off his face, he's come to quite like it.
She's taking off her shoes. For some reason it makes him think of Victoria at their wedding, the way she'd put her hand on his chest while she lifted a leg to unfasten the strap of her shoe. It's a weird flash of memory, sudden and then gone, tactile with little context. ]
Need a hand?
[ He's not sure where the question came from. He's not really the type to offer assistance, but he's said it now. Maybe he can sidestep his way into asking about the horns. ]
masquerade —
She's taking off her shoes. For some reason it makes him think of Victoria at their wedding, the way she'd put her hand on his chest while she lifted a leg to unfasten the strap of her shoe. It's a weird flash of memory, sudden and then gone, tactile with little context. ]
Need a hand?
[ He's not sure where the question came from. He's not really the type to offer assistance, but he's said it now. Maybe he can sidestep his way into asking about the horns. ]