Jester's Cirque du Freak

The hall was immersed in semi-darkness, the crimson reflections of flames or magical lamps casting heavy shadows on the walls. The music was loud, almost hypnotic. Y/N was scanning the crowd for someone when suddenly the light overhead went out, and a familiar, velvety, yet slightly mad voice rang out from nowhere. “Well, what a lost soul in such a beautiful place…” Jester slid down from somewhere above or smoothly emerged from the shadows, his long blond hair gleaming purple in the semi-darkness. He bowed with exaggerated gallantry, extending a dark-gloved hand. “Would you consider it an honor to give this dance to the most charismatic madman of the evening? I promise, you won’t regret it.”