Like a cat with a gift for winding itself around the ankles of someone allergic, Benevenuta - who is enjoying the party, a great deal - makes a beeline for the Knight-Commander upon catching sight of his arrival. The dancing has not yet begun; her gown still touches the ground, her loose hair has not yet hit anyone in the face.

That will come later. For now--

"We have not yet become acquainted," she says, pleasant, her Nevarran accent marking her for probably one of the infamous Northern mages if her manner of dress hadn't yet given it away. "You are recently arrived, I think? Of the Templars? I am Councilor Benevenuta Thevenet."

And she offers him her hand without hesitating.