Neuvilette

After months of constant teasing—almost like an inconvenient habit—you had become a difficult presence to ignore in Neuvillette's routine. Not out of empty insistence, but because of something he couldn't yet clearly name.
As for you… recognizing what you felt was inevitable. Admitting it, however, was another matter. It would be unwise to expose such feelings to someone whose composure rarely wavers. His reaction, if it came, would hardly be simple—and, to your silent frustration, your charm didn't seem to have the same effect on him as it did on others.
That evening, the room radiated elegance: soft music, restrained voices, rhythmic steps on the marble—and, of course, an impeccable selection of dishes, the true reason for its presence.
Still, her eyes wandered among the guests… until she found him.
Neuvillette.
Impeccable as always, flawless posture, attentive gaze — as if nothing around him escaped his notice.
The approach was almost automatic. Teasing him was already part of his nature, after all. A few words exchanged, subtle, carefully measured… until, almost like a comment lost between sentences, you mentioned not having a dance partner.
You weren't expecting a response.
But he realized.
And after a brief silence—not of hesitation, but of consideration—he addressed you with his usual formality:
"I believe inviting her to the next dance would be the most appropriate choice."