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.

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"I'd hate to disappoint you, Rita." He understands, a bit, though not entirely. His marriage broke up in the engagement phase, and he's never had to see his Kirstin with the other, undoubtedly steadier, man she eventually ended up with. Still, it's an ache in your heart that's hard to erase, no matter the years between then and now.

"As long as I get plenty of whipped cream too, lass," he says with a wicked grin and a saucy wink. And if they're in full view of the ex and the new one when Ben Mackinnon dips Rita James and then swings her around so she's laughing again?

Well, that's just too damn bad, isn't it.

The ache never goes away, she's guessing. The pain is always there. The having to actually see the other half is what really makes it worse.

She's glad there are men like Ben who even half understand it. Who don't question that she needs to spend the night flirting and not thinking and being helped to show the world how perfectly okay everything is.

The end of the next song will, of course, require a break for some water, and likely a relinquishing of her partner. But not before she smacks a big, lipstick-y kiss against his cheek.

"You're something else, you know."

Not entirely, it doesn't. Sometimes, he believes, you meet someone better - you're lucky enough to do that. And the ache fades to near nothing, then. But sometimes, you haven't that luck.

He grins, though, not allowing himself the melancholy. It's been too close to the surface lately as it is.

"I do my best," he tells her. "You're something else yourself, Rita."

She's still laughing a little breathlessly as she reaches to smudge the lipstick mark from his cheek. Wouldn't do to let all the pretty young things get distracted.

"I know it." If others didn't, well, that was hardly her problem, was it. "Thank you, though."

It'd be a shame if they all stared at Ben all night instead of someone in their age bracket. And then Ben would be getting scowls from his twentysomething regulars once the pub opened again.

Admittedly, that would be kind of fun in it's own way.

"'Twas my pleasure," he tells her. "We can repeat the experience anytime you like."

Surely men don't exist in this world who flirt with women of their own age in anything like seriousness. Rita all but refuses to believe it.

"Anytime? You're joking. Can I make demands in your place of business?"

Because she will. She already intends to.

And yet, Ben has been doing just that on more than one occasion. One of these days, perhaps, she'll buy that he's serious about it. He but lives in hope.

"Darling lass," he said. "If you came into the pub and demanded a dance, I couldn't possibly refuse you."

And the regulars would probably enjoy the show enough that they wouldn't whine about their bartender swinging a lovely lady about.

"Quite the saint." She does have to pause quizzically for a moment, not yet properly moving to get the water she likely needs. "Do I have to pick between a pink umbrella drink and a dance? Or are you really ungodly generous?"

Surely no one is that good. Surely not even Ben.

"Both?" His eyebrows wing up, and the pause is like he's considering it. Considering it quite seriously, really. "I suppose for a lady like yourself," he says after that pause, "I could really be that ungodly generous."

"You're still a cad." So they're clear. "And, I suspect, a scallywag. But a generous one, I'll give you that."

Does he kiss a lady's hand when she leaves? Or does he awkwardly shake if she holds our her fingers expectantly?

"Shoo. Go break some hearts."

"Absolutely. I'd never deny either of those things."

Just as he would never awkwardly shake. Certainly not when he can bend gracefully over her knuckles and give her a steady look out of gleaming brown eyes.

"As you wish."

Yes. Just like that. With those eyes just like that is how he should go break hearts. She'd applaud him if she didn't have to go get herself a drink and find another dance partner.

Just have to show up on Monday to let him know. And have a drink. And steal a dance. And maybe flirt despite no one important being there to see.

It's Swing Time~

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