Page 21 of Enzo

He tilts his head.

“Nice mask,” I say, struggling to find something to talk about, because what else is there to say?

“I could say the same to you.”

“Thank you. Unfortunately I have to hold mine up the whole time.”

“You could always take it off,” he suggests.

“I can't.”

“Why not?”

“Because it's an Evening of Masks,” I say, recounting the words from the invitation.

“There's dinner later so you'll have to remove it, unless you want to eat one-handed.”

I giggle. “It's a struggle.”

“I noticed you found a table.”

He did notice me.

“You noticed me earlier and you didn't come up to me.”

“I don't make it a habit of just going up to people I barely know--”

“You should try it. I went up to you and look at us now. We're friends.”

“It's a little too soon to be calling us that, don't you think?”

“Oh, touchy!”

He frowns, and lines crease his brow.

“We seem to be getting on just fine, given that we're not friends,” I retort.

He makes a low noise in the back of his throat. A long, drawn-out “Hmmmm.”

I don't want to walk away because this is better than experiencing tonight alone. I'd better get used to Mysterious Non-Speaking Man.

I turn and look at the enormous painting he seemed so mesmerised by before I disturbed him. It takes up most of the wall, filled with robed figures, dramatic skies and what looks like an awful lot of suffering.

“There’s a lot of these around here,” I remark.

“A lot of what?”

“Paintings.”

“There would be. It's the Doge’s Palace.”

“Do you think they dust these every day?”

He opens his mouth and closes it again. Maybe he doesn't know. Maybe he's not thought about it.

I turn to him again.

“Would you mind if I walked around with you?”