As the alcohol started to make his head buzz and make him lose any cares or worries, he's lost in thought. Darien was just another face in the crowd; invisible, like he liked it. By now he's use to being bumped and shoved around by the mass of bodies on the dance floor but it was a rather sharp thud that clearly wasn't in rhythm with the music that jolts him. It almost causes him to topple over as he feels hands grabbing to steady themselves. Opening his eyes and removing his hands from his face, he's greeted by a pretty face. Instinctively his hands reach out to grab her by the elbows, to assist both of them and support them. Even through the flashing lights and chaos (and her hood) he can see her unusually white braided hair. On her face was some ... paint? Or is it makeup? He's quick to apologize, whether she hears it or not. Oviously it wasn't his fault but the polite Fae can't help it. He can tell immediately she's not human, and his eyes are quick to notice the towel wrapped around her arm.

Then he smells something familiar, even above all the perfume and sweat. Blood. As he's noticing her strange appearance, he looks up to notice she's looking nervously over her shoulder. "Are you okay!?!" Is she in trouble? Darien's first thought is Hunters. After all, he barely escaped one himself not too long ago and he still had the scars to prove it on his cheek and calf. He's equally concerned now, for if it was Hunters after her, now they'd also be after him. Part of him wants to be mad if this was the case, but then she turns back around to look at him and it disables him. He knows fear and survival like an intimate lover, but this woman seemed more ... in control.

"Dance with me and pretend like you know me," Darien stares into her eyes with concern, briefly looking over her and trying to see what she saw, but he's greeted by nothing out of the norm. Then he looks back as he hears her plea. "Please," His heart sinks to his stomach at that word and it pacfies any anger he felt, still thinking she was the current target of Hunters. Even if it was just some abusive boyfriend, he was still being dragged into confrontation and Darien didn't handle conflict very well. But he was a sucker for those needing help and after a few seconds of thinking it over, he nods. I'm drunk enough for this. Let's do it.

Just as he nods, a new song begins to blast over the speakers, Kill V. Maim by Grimes.

Now, Darien wasn't exactly a dancer. In fact, he was more awkward than even remotely skilled, but he's willing to at least make it look like he knows what he's doing for the sake of this woman. All he really knew was ballroom dancing and this wasn't the type of music or place for that sort of thing. He lets go of his grip on her arms, sliding his hands down to hers. Stepping sideways he lets go of her left hand and only has her right. There is an opening behind him and he swings her to it (surprisingly graceful-like, too) but keeps it tight. Then he swings her back to where she was before, as if trying to rev up the juices and get a feel for the beat. He lets go of her hand, moving in so they are uncomfortably close, taking notes of those around them of their dancing style. Close, loose, but like we're the only ones here. He looks down at her feet, trying to see her pace, what she was doing to match. Normally he was suppose to lead, but she looked more like the type he was suppose to follow.

After all, dancing was about the connection to your partner. Darien tries to ignore everyone around them once he thinks he's in tune with the music and her, including the possible danger. His gaze is stern and intense as he stares into her eyes, locking on them and finding a fluid motion with the beat at last. He remains close to her, and this was actually .. exciting. And fun? A smirk forms on his lips. Half way through the song, the lights slow down with the beat, and fog begins to fill the floor. Everyone is really feeling it, whether it's with help from drugs, hormones, alcohol or all of the above. It's at this time Darien slows down his pulsating moves and slowly begins to circle her, still staring deeply into her eyes and he hopes she'll intuitively follow with him. His left hand goes to the small of her back, and steadily (but softly) his fingertips barely brush along. As if she's forbidden to touch but he still wanted to just get a little feel in just to say he did.

And it suddenly feels like a courtship. A dangerous one. He's lost in this odd encounter and hardly notices the men circling the crowd, eyeing everyone with malice and determination. Though they don't seem to notice right now, whose to say they wouldn't?