Crow-head cane. Crow head cane. These are the words repeating themselves on a loop in Rupert's head as he zones in on the man standing by the wall, crow-headed cane in hand. It's an unmissable detail, even in all the colour and light and movement of the gala. The wine had been a prop, an excuse, and at the young man's refusal Hentzau seems entirely unfazed. He merely shrugs, obviously unconcerned, and sips at the glass of wine for himself as he eyes Kaz with obvious interest.

"We are yet to be introduced, aren't we?" He asks, his German accent obvious in the long, twisting vowels. He smiles a glittering smile. "I never forget a face, and yours is entirely unknown to me."

Which is something of a half-truth, considering Victor's words.