Upon stepping down from the small platform which the throne sat, Aire was surprised to find that his balance had barely been affected through the numerous glasses of wine he'd consumed. When he rose, he [i]did[/i] feel a bit dizzy, stumbled a bit, but otherwise was fine. The servant watched him with careful, almost concerned eyes. Or either that was just his mind playing tricks on him. Aire had not gotten drunk before, and while he was far from his mother's state of being completely [i]stoned[/i], he was still more than tipsy.

It was with slow, careful steps that Aire led himself out of the ballroom with Rosemund following behind. Every minute or so, he'd look back to make sure she was still there - and to make sure that she wasn't plotting any tricks. The servant seemed to have a kind heart, but the way she was so easily able to deceive, Aire felt he couldn't rightly trust her. As they exited the ballroom, strangers' and guests' eyes followed them, murmuring in confusion. The prince held up a hand and nodded at them in silent assurance that everything was fine.

The thought of crawling back into his large, luxurious bed was so appealing that Aire almost wanted to run. But he didn't. Eventually, he'd slowed his pace enough so that he and the servant were walking side-by-side. It was awkward. It was silent.