Counting Stars On The Ceiling

[Blanche Chaucer]

• Now that the evening was a little further underway, the Great Hall's ceiling was speckled with stars, and couples twirling ceaselessly in the centre of the room, Blanche had regained most of her usual confidence. Her nerves had quite dissipated, and her wholehearted aim for the rest of the evening was simply to enjoy herself.
  
  Throat quite dry already from the bout of giggling and excited conversation with a few of her friends, Blanche ventured across the room in search of a refreshment. It turned out to be quite a complicated trek, but she carefully managed to not to misstep, step on anyone's hems or knock elbows, and glancing briefly down, she was relieved to see that her own dress was equally intact. She had even managed to glance to and fro and acknowledge some of the handsomest gentlemen in attendance, something the ball was evidently not lacking in.
  
  Having successfully reached the refreshments table, she didn't like to be pushy, but from her position, she could not reach a glass, and there was another figure in the way - but also closer to where she was trying to reach. "Excuse me," she requested brightly, addressing the man, "might you pass me a glass, please?"