Nightfall stood in the doorway, watching the girl. She always came early; she always stayed late. Her heel rested on the balance bar, as she practiced her grand jete form. She was much closer to a woman than a girl; it was only her slender, dancer's build that made him think of these dancers otherwise.

He knew her routine -- both on the floor and off. The precise, methodical way she unpacked and dressed; the immaculate coiffure. The expressionless mask she wore -- the same mask her parents wore, whenever they came in to pay. She had been rejected to Julliard last year. This year would be her second --and last-- try. Without Julliard, she would never be a consideration for a prima ballerina... merely one of the faceless backup dancers. No more than a stage prop.

Nightfall knew she wasn't good enough.

So did she.

He could see behind the mask; the broken heart, that had sacrificed so much, that still had failure in her parents' eyes to endure. No friends, no lovers, no joy, all sacrificed on the altar of expectations. Beyond anger. Beyond hope. Beyond fear. Beyond all of these, was Winter's sorrow.

Katrin's demands echoed in his ears as he watched the girl.

Nightfall approached, his eyes studying her in the wall-mirror. There was no smile or nod of encouragement. Not this day. No words of advice, no hands to shape the lines of her body.

"We both know you won't get into Julliard," he said softly. "So quit wasting your time, and get your things."

Long, slender fingers held up a pair of Kings tickets, and the expressive features broke into a mischievous smile. Twinkling eyes promised... joy.

"Let's go have some fun."

Katrin would have to get used to disappointment.