Where she's instantly at home on the dance floor of a club, normally all brash smirks and writhing movements, a masquerade ball is like an alien world to her. Darcy is grateful for the mask that helps to hide her nerves, hiding the small blush she can feel under the mask on her cheeks. She feels out of her element in the gown, fingers constantly playing with the sleek material.

Still, with everyone masked, she'd be able to recognize Ezio by his movements alone, the fluid grace and way he carries himself. She makes her way across the floor to him, neatly cutting in as the music starts a waltz.

"Sorry if I step on your feet; I've only done this a couple times before."