houseofcards_rp | It's Swing Time~

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out Elisha's motivation for organizing - or, honestly, delegating the organization of - a semi-formal dance party. Lucinda had suggested a ball, with stars in her eyes. She probably had already picked out ballgowns and themes in her head when Elisha had nixed the thing and - in a moment of desperation, with the memory of the swing-themed Fox wedding still in his head - suggest a Spring Swing, instead.

Everyone had run with it, and Elisha was pleased to say it had come out well. He was even more pleased to say that he didn't have to wear a suit, even if he stepped out into the lantern-lit gardens in everything but the tie. He paused near the raised dais provided for dancing and gave the small band the signal to start up the music before he attempted to fade back in the crowd. Not that that ever worked.

"Let the games begin," he murmured to no one in particular as he picked up a glass of champagne off a tray.

Note: Open to everyone and their brother; tag around, have fun!

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The growth spurts have already started. The former Queen and current King have likely seen the next few years coming, but that doesn't mean it isn't going to be a ridiculous sort of ride.

Deck children have infinitely violently fascinating teen years, after all.

"Nothing of the sort. I'm just catching my breath between whirls. It's not a skulking sort of night, is it?"

He hopes their braced for it. He was hell on wheels until he hit twenty-one, and then he'd entered the police academy, where he was a good cop for a full four years.

Then he was hell on wheels again. But like as not, Argine and Elisha aren't raising Ben Mackinnon.

"No, it's a bright and sparkling sort of night." Since she's becoming something like a lady, he offers an arm. "The lanterns are a nice touch, and the weather's cooperating."

Not quite. They're raising Eileen Eicheln. It'll be a differently exciting brand of hell.

It takes half a second before she takes his arm, the maneuver not any harder in her new (slight) heels but at a notably different angle than it had been when she was more properly a child.

"D'you think it will last? The good weather?"

"It ought to. It's May, after all, and we don't get cold snaps around here, usually." Except October, but it seems safe to say that was related to whatever the things were happening. "Now, in Scotland, it's possible that you should expect at least one more snowstorm, and it'd like as not rain most of the way through the summer."

"Do you miss that?" It's why people bring things up, after all, isn't it? Because that something's on their mind? "Would it be easier if this were... more like that?"

She's not remotely sure what it would be like to leave home for more than a week or two. Very disconcerting, likely.

"The rain? Not so much, really. Other bits of Scotland, aye." The ocean, for one. They had a sea now, but it wasn't quite the same. The beach was sandy - artificially so, but nonetheless - rather than rocks jutting out into it. "But this has been home for a few years now."

And there's little point in dwelling on it, when he can't go back, truthfully.

"It's not such a bad place to call home."

For all there were constant shocks and traumas. For all towers appeared out of nowhere and for all fathers tended to get murdered.

"Have you been dancing, then?"

"It's not, no. It's an idyllic place, most of the time, aye?" On the surface, at least. And for all that Diane Masters had come in grumping about what a terrible place it was - he'd heard most of the words she'd said to the mysteriously disappeared Peter - if you compared the Deck and Outside side to side, the Deck still came out ahead in his view.

"Ms. Rita James and I took a few swings around the dance floor," he says, and glances down at her. "Are you measuring whether I might make a worthy dance partner for yourself, Eileen?"

Her head bobs emphatically. It is an idyllic place. Not a perfect place, not an entirely flawless place, but certainly the only place she'd heard of yet that felt entirely right to live in.

Admittedly, she was a flawed sample.

The quirk of her smile is appropriately childish, certainly pleased. "It might be dangerous. You could probably throw me into the shallows of the stratosphere without second thought."

She might find that changed as she grew up. But then again, she might not; it was the rare Deck child who left and never came back.

"Oh, I dinna know about that," he says with a flash of a grin. "I imagine I can probably control any impulses to send you up to space with only that pretty blue dress."

A space suit would just likely be a bit more practical for such a thing.

Don't make comment about the layers of atmosphere between the stratosphere and space. Don't do it.

"D'you promise you'd be incredibly careful? I'm not particularly dressed for the temperature up there."

Which wouldn't be the same as 'outer space' cold, but certainly wouldn't be pleasant.

It'd be wise not to, as it would only get a sober nod meant to convince Eileen that he had any bloody idea what she was talking about. It's been, shall we say, more years than Eileen has been alive since he took much in the way of science.

Actually, probably close to twice that long, but they won't think about that.

"I'll be careful enough that you don't go on any unexpected trips," he tells her with a grin, "but not so careful that it isn't fun."

That was a fine but important line, after all.

"I suppose it'd be rude to say no, particularly with an assurance like that."

And with a reassuring smile like that. And with, generally speaking, the promise of fun she was actually excited to have.

He will, alas, have to go easy on her. Elani had trained her well, but she is still a child of 13.

They'll just make it up as they go along. It's the best way to dance, though actual dance training? Probably helps a bit.

"It 'twould be, I'm afraid," he says as the band strikes up a lively number. "You'll just have to suffer through the whirling."

"Suffer?" Not that she isn't the one tugging him properly onto the floor. She absolutely is. "Is it too late to change my mind?"

Which she won't be. And she does expect he'll be taking advantage of her still being comparatively tiny in the 'swing' of things.

"It's far too late," Ben proclaims. "You should just accept your fate now, Eileen lass."

Other things she should accept: slides, dips, and a slightly dramatic frog jump, of course.

It's Swing Time~

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