Adam noticed the gentleman wasn't dressed for a ball but wore outdoor attire showing a fit and muscular frame. The man regarding him with soulful, dark blue eyes over a goatee that molded around his wide mouth was no noble fop laying about on his title. That the man could tell his unrest simply by looking at him spoke volumes about his distress, Adam thought, worrying a hand through spikes of his sandy hair. His eyes continued to dart across the voluminous ballroom. "My sister," he uttered, showing his desperation by blurting his distress to a complete stranger, "is missing." His hand scrubbed his jaw on the strident note. "And you fear for her safety?" Adam's gaze darted to the man. A very comely man with a voice like warm, red wine. He wasn't so very old as his first glance assumed. It was the man's trim goatee that hid his younger, but very handsome, face. "Yes," Adam hissed, and then without further comment or worry of rudeness he started forward. He would try the kitchen. "I'll help you," the man's soothing voice sounded as he strode beside him.
