Steffon felt the grin that plastered over his lips, truly it was unceasing through the merriment that filled the air. The musicians stumbled their feet towards the wooden dais set off to a corner of the room, drunk through the cheers of their previous performance and the drinks of gratitude given afterward, and donned their instruments. Through the hum of a seven stringed lute and the clash of tiny clamps, the crowded room roared once more and parted to allow for the dance that would follow. Across the growing circle, where the marble showed it's shine instead of the many leather boots, he could see his sister.
She didn't seem to take to his attention, as mild as it was as he watched her interact with the lordly next to her. Steffon's chest seemed to puff with pride, she was being complimented – Argella had that look about her, the glimmer in her big green eyes that admitted her importance, accepted whatever kind words were being given, and seemed to expect more to come. It was a trait he couldn't deny belonged to the entire family, perhaps Joffery most of all, who was undoubtedly scampering around the celebration somewhere too.
As a man, and even as a proud brother, he could admire her for how beautiful she was becoming; clad in the silks of the south, softly dyed to hues often sought after and rarely found in much of the realm, with her hair pinned and jewelry glinting off the candlelight, Argella was hard to miss. Another smile beamed across his lips, different than before as he joined the parading finery that began to entangle on the stone in front of him. His sister stepped up, still not looking as she fluttered her lashes at the young man beside her, "It is a shame he is not your dance partner."
His jovial tone produced a laugh, and another, louder one as her head turned to look at him. "I suppose you'll have to make due with me, at least for now," the song would turn in a few minutes and ask that they take a new partner. Then they would dip, and twirl, a shuffle of their feet to the next, before another sequence of movements that would lead her back to facing him. His hands joined the rest, a uniform movement as they raised into the air in front of his chest. "Are you enjoying yourself, sweet sister? Your cheeks are a little pink," another chuckle, "Has father been slipping you cups of wine like he has done to me?" As if he could not find the flagons himself.
"Have you been enjoying the night?" he had heard some talk of the girls, as most of them worth noticing he knew and was reminded of such through the men admiring them – it had been a strange thing to hear, how beautiful your sister was and to be asked for an introduction. Some he might indulge, but as of yet he hadn't decided. She was a tender age, one that could be swayed easily and in many ways taken advantage of. He was there to protect her, it was a shame he couldn't shroud her. There was also some gossip of a few harshly exchanged words with another young lady, something he was much more apt to listen to.