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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Lasse can be reasoned into putting on a suit for an event such as this one and he's shown up in a fine tailored pinstripe three-piece. However, soon after his arrival, he accidentally loses the jacket somewhere. At least he's still got the waistcoat and tie?

By the time Rita finds him, Lasse is happily sprawled on a chair, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, one arm hooked around the back, a glass of champagne dangling loosely from his fingers.

An easy smile on his lips, the Dane looks up at the Heart and raises an eyebrow.

"Think you can keep up?"

And it's a shame to oust him from such a clearly comfortable state of being, really it is. But the point of a dance is, surely, to be dancing until the Clubs kick you out--or at least until Gideon started making entirely distressed faces about the hour. Whichever worked.

"Are you really slinging challenges, doll? Are we going to have to throw down? Because no one's going to save you from yourself, darling."

"Story of my life." He laughs as he sets down the glass next to his chair.

"It's a valid question. You've been whirling around since you've arrived. All I've done is help little brats hide their candy treasure."

Lasse is pretty sure most of the sticky booty has ended up in the pockets of his lost suit jacket. Another reason why he wouldn't mind not getting it back.

"Is that what you've been up to?" Clearly he deserves an affectionate swat on the nose for that. Surely he knew it was coming when he confessed to his crime. "For shame, Mr Rasmussen. What will their mothers say?"

Although, if this were going to be an opportunity to sit on the arm of a chair for a few minutes, well. She isn't actually going to pass that up.

"Ought to report you. Possibly to the fun police."

"You'd snitch on me? I am shocked, Ms James!"

The mothers are probably glad that nicking candy is all their children are doing. There are so many worse things Lasse could think of, including swinging from the lanterns in the garden or attempting to make a bonfire using aforementioned paper lanterns.

"Though I doubt you'll find a member of the fun police. I heard they were banned from the premises."

Oh, tsk and snort, sir, even as she smooths gently to settle the folds of her skirt, ankles crossing more demurely.

"I'm so sorry to disappoint, handsome, but as a mother, I am the fun police. Left my badge in my other dress, but you're never really off-duty, are you."

And clearly, of all the un-fun mothers in the world, Rita is the un-fun-est.

On opposite day.

Funny how the best lies he's heard always fall from the reddest of lips.

"No badge, no authority, I'm afraid. But that also means there's no need to escort you off the Castle grounds. However," he adds as he rises to his feet, giving up the comfortable sprawl he's maintained for quite some time.

"I'd be more than happy to accompany you back into the merry crowd before the young people get too cocky."

The laugh only stalls her standing and offering her arm for a moment. These sort of offers were sometimes limited time only with old bones, after all.

Including her own. She isn't actually nineteen anymore.

"Oh, hon. They're always cocky. It's just a matter of making sure they know they're ridiculously foolish for it."

"So let's." Crooked smile, a twinkle in his eyes, Lasse leads Rita back to the dance floor. She is pretty good at it and so is he and together they make quite a spectacle.

At this moment, the Dane is a little bit in love with her - like most men have been at one time or another, he suspects. A younger version of him, removed in time and space, absolutely smitten with the Lady Heart, proposes giving her asshole ex-husband a thrashing he wouldn't forget any time soon. It's sweet - and not going to happen. This little adolescent crush lasts for the duration of two songs, and ends when he straightens up from the dip they've ended on.

"I say we call it a draw," he teases, as he brushes a few stray strands of hair out of his face. "Thanks for the lovely dance, my lady."

It's good to be kept up with. It's good, in fact, for these two songs, to be actually challenged.

And it's good, she can admit, to feel loved. To feel admired. To feel, more than anything, that she's got someone's attention. That she matters deeply in someone's heart, if only until he's done tossing her in the air and dipping her to the ground.

She needs to tug his collar to get him down from his great height, but hopefully he'll indulge in letting her smack a red lip-stick-y kiss to his cheek. "You're going to spoil me, Lasse. You really are. Thank you."

It's Swing Time~

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