Menachem stared at her but hid his disappointment. "It's.. me.. Menachem. Remember? You pulled me from that well and saved my life."

He could see her searching him for money. Sadly for her, he had very little on him. "I just wanted to say hello, and see how you were doing. Do you not remember me?"

A favorite time of year, The Lockwood family certainly enjoyed their fair share of the festivities and with as many sisters as he had, Henri was certainly eager to play the chaperone for them all so they could enjoy it without so much as a fuss. It gave his mother time to dance with his father and he could keep an eye on them as well.

“Henri! You should dance! Come dance with someone!” His youngest sister bounced along as she scanned the dance for anyone who looked like they needed a partner.

“You!” She held out her brother’s hand to the first lady who stood alone, “Just one.” Henri looked horrified and was already starting his apologies.

Oh, right! That was why her back still hurt.

“Of course I remember you …” God, what was his name? Three syllables, started with an ‘M’ and sounded, uh, Jewish … “Mazzletoff? How’s your legs?”

She glanced to a fellow being offered around for a dance, glad she was seated and less glad but also less aware that she smelled like an unfortunately sentient armpit.

Menachem rose his brow but smiled slightly. "Close. Menachem. Ah, my leg isn't great..." He lifted the cane. "But it's getting better all the time. I saw you here and thought I'd say hello. Did you want me to grab you something to drink?" He wasn't blind to the fact she seemed perpetually drunk or seeking it. And while he didn't want to feed that addiction, he wanted to be kind and give her what she wanted.

She looked to the woman who started speaking and she opened her mouth to speak but suddenly, there were other people there.

She gave a look to the man with the kind face and the dark hair when his hand was offered, not by him, but by another person, it was her hand who ended up in Henri's. Pen gave a wide eyed stare at first and then said, "Uh, hello sir. I'm Penelope Wells, and you are?" She gave a curtsy and then a wide smile. Her dark eyes were filled to the brim with intelligence and laughter, perhaps almost as if there was a joke hanging in the air between them in the best kind of way. "I shall be glad to dance if you are so inclined."

And then she looked back to the woman, as if asking if it was okay. She didn't want to seem rude to either person.

Nisa was about to get the woman to speak to her when a man and woman came by and demanded her dance. She wanted to glare, but her carefully ingrained manners forced a smile on her face. This must be why her brother sent her here, full of ill-mannered people. Maybe he was trying to test her will power more than anything. People thinking they have some importance over others that they can just interrupt without an apology.

"Of course, this is a dance after all." She said. She struggled to remain looking calm even as she thought up ways to make all three of them suffer. This was supposed to be a change to prove herself to Aslan. She turned to find someone else to speak to. She had their faces, if this detective thing didn't go well, she could always get out her anger on them later.

Though he wanted to hunt his own kin down and string her up by her already stringy hair, the youngest little Lockwood giggling at the sight of his no doubt look of horror reminded him why he loved her so much. She wasn't exactly old enough just yet to be out in society, but when you came from a humble family that sort of thing didn’t matter.

“Henri,” He said with a smile as he curled his fingers around her hand, “And I’m afraid she will insist, and I will do my best not to ruin your shoes.” Though he was being modest. With so many young sisters at home he didn’t escape the dances often. They needed someone to practice on and both he and his father were well versed in nearly every reel.

“This one is a bit tricky,” he said as the band started to set the tempo, “Hold on?”

He liked to pretend he hated it, but the truth of the matter was if a sibling didn’t force him, he would have remained on the sides the entire night. However, the small talk was truly the hardest, but as he studied her he realized very much he wanted to know her further.

“Forgive me, I haven’t had the pleasure of your acquaintance. Are you new in town?”

She gave a friendly nod to Nisa, and then turned and found herself being swept up with the tempo of the music. "Ahh, yes. And if my brother has anything to say about it, not long for this town." Penelope chuckled and her eyes fairly danced with her laughter. "I came to live here, though."

The dance was some fun and it left her somewhat breathless. She wasn't the best dancer in the world, but she wasn't the worst, either. At least not country dances. "I could have been at the charity ball, where he would have been happy to rub among the fools of the uppercrust, the very best of hoity toity." She shifted her hand just enough so that her pinky went up. "But the better dances are the ones the public can join. I'm glad I did. You dance like a dream, Mister Lockwood."

“I do,” she admitted solemnly, “but not on that leg, young man. Have a seat.”

She patted the dirt next to her.

“Cajole some less busted up whippersnapper to grab us both drinks,” she recommended, like it was the most obvious and reasonable conclusion in the world.

Menachem rose his brow as she invited him to sit beside her. He shrugged and smiled as he carefully settled down on the dirt beside her. It was by far the least glamorous place to be at the dance, but it was beside someone whom he would consider a friend and he wouldn't be anywhere else. "That's a brilliant idea, thank you." He placed the can carefully on his lap so it wouldn't trip anyone walking around and watched the people socializing and was wondering how they would get a drink. "Perhaps we should try to get someone's attention?" He asked though he was certain they'd be ignored.