[hope this is ok! you know, werewolves and vampires....:) If this doesn't work let me know.]

Galliards are known among the Garou tribes as moon dancers. They sing songs to rouse their kind to battle, to carry on when they think they can't and to mourn those who fall. That spirit draws him toward music and dance. Fills him with passion and hope, not only for his kind but for humanity. While his party going and bar hoping might come off to some as a problem, he finds himself in places like this because it makes him feel alive. Reminds him of why they do what they do, reminds him of why humanity is worth saving.

Sitting among the crowd he watches the performance with rapt attention. It wasn't just her voice that had him staring. Every note she sang tugged on that part of him that could sense the Wyrm. Though it wasn't a strong pull. Nothing triggering his rage. Only his curiosity. Then again, Glass Walkers are often accused of being corrupted by the other tribes, too close to the Weaver, to human for their own good.

He slid off of his seat and made his way closer to the stage. As he got closer he glanced at her again with a smile and a nod of his head.