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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"Of course." They were both that sort of person, after all. They both came to dances and couldn't stop themselves.

Maybe she gets it from him.

"D'you know boys my age are genuinely awful at dancing?"

There's a flash of smile across his face. "Did you know at that age, I was awful too?"

"And you think you've gotten better at it?"

It's just that she's in a good mood. It's not remotely like she's forgiven David of anything. Or like he's in any way going to get a dance out of her.

"I can only hope that years of practice have dulled my habit of stepping on a partner's toes."

That almost smile wasn't going to get his hopes up, nope.

She's certainly not smiling. Or, well, if she is smiling, she's certainly not smiling about him so much as the evening.

"And you've been having luck finding partners to practice with, then?"

"Well, a Joker has many friends in strange places." Or... enemies who still talked to him, acquaintances who pitied him, and strangers who didn't know how to say no.

Those were the same thing, right?

Maybe there is a bit of smile for that as she finally glances up at him. Just maybe.

"I hope you have. Genuinely."

It made his lie more painful that she wished it true.

"Indeed. Perhaps, before the night is over, I'll even manage to convince you out onto the dance floor, hm?"

"...perhaps."

It isn't a yes. They're not so easy together yet as to have an immediate yes. But it isn't a no. That's probably more important than the lack of a yes.

A bright smile for her. A perhaps was significantly better than a no. "My lady is very kind."

"I wouldn't say 'kind,' I don't think." Her lower lip goes briefly between her teeth. "More... hopeful."

"Even better for me, I think." That was an expression from her younger years, and he enjoyed the moment of it, brief as it was.

It's not perfect yet. It's still a little strange to stand here beside him after losing him for as long as they had.

But it's getting better. She's absolutely got hope for it to keep getting better. "...I actually dance now, you know. No more standing on toes."

"Is that so?" He makes a point of sounding vaguely skeptical. He would need proof of this before he'd agree it's true.

It takes another moment. Another little bit of breathing, of pressing her lips together and taking in the world. Of adjusting her expectations. Of remembering herself as an entity without needing others to hold her up.

And that's enough to have her holding out her hand in his direction. Time to prove she could dance, then. And... time to prove they were making progress away from hurt toward... at least something numb.

Steps, hey? They'd just have to take them.

He takes her hand with a bow, leading her onto the dance floor. "As my lady desires."

"Don't let it go to your head."

But it isn't horribly uncomfortable to take his hands. It isn't entirely out of sorts to fall into step with him; even to smile while they move.

That's something.

"I shant even consider it." But he might, just a little bit, anyway. A little bit of headway was better than nothing, after all.

And earning a smile? Well, that would encourage him into an energetic spin.

It's imperfect. She's certainly nowhere near smiling for him the way she had not so long ago. But they're spinning like they've got balance. She's laughing like she's a child. Maybe it's just the dance.

But some piece of it must be him, right?

One must be happy for small favors. A smile was a smile was a smile.

He didn't let himself belief in much of anything these days. So he would cause her smiles and assume the worst.

Hopefully a lift won't be the worst, however.

A lift isn't the worst. It might confirm that things have changed--that she's taller, that his hands fit differently holding her--but it certainly won't mar anything.

Lifting a young woman is different than lifting a little girl, but years of practice help smooth it out easily enough.

And that's good. That's a step too, because that's not missing a step. Feels almost like the separation was a growing apart rather than an actual leaving.

"--see?"

She did dance on her own two feet these days.

Growing apart... Yes. This felt different. Like a link was missing.

"Indeed. Did your mother foist lesson on you?"

"My Jack, actually." The one who had for years, after all, been her dance instructor. "It would have been embarrassing if I couldn't keep up at our own party."

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