As he reappeared in the room, he silently slipped back into the bedroom of the loft. He sadly regarded his mask and crumpled suit. His eyes stung, but pride refused to let him see why. He spoke, his voice soft and bitter "I, Count Nyxian Nocturne of Prance, would like to think I could have seen through such a fantastical dream sooner. But it's hard to find enough courage to admit the truth, when you so desperately want to believe in a lie."
He pawed at the mask with his hoof, it should have been his first hint. Only he could remove it due to the enchantments, and he never would have taken it off. Even with the false courage of fine spirits, Nyx knew he was too much of a coward to face Quick Stitch.
He sighed and closed his eyes, only to open them with the familiar weight of a mask on his face seconds later. The room was dark, and the sun had yet to rise. Nyx, no, Count Nocturne would be long gone before it did. Still, being the romantic gentlecolt he was, Nocturne would leave Stitch a note asking if the he wished to meet again and play Nocturne's little game.
The letter reads thusly:
Beloved Quick Stitch,
Though it wounded mine heart to do so, I had to take leave of thine delightful company early this morn as I had official business to tend to. I beg that thou do not mistake this for rejection and denial, as I promise it is no such thing. If thine heart still races for my touch as it did this night past, I will see thee at sunfall in the Royal Gardens.
(Just an idea I had while listening to some somber piano music. If you don't like it, I can shift it slightly to where it hadn't all been a dream.)
A Joker, an Ace, and a King. One soul and fate, bound to three hearts. One Lost, One Just, One Wicked.