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[right][img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img][/right][right][sup][color=#d4af37][b]#d4af37[/b][/color][color=2e2c2c]...[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]...[/color][url=https://i.pinimg.com/736x/9d/6c/dd/9d6cddf90421ceb4a4114345d38541ee.jpg][color=9b9b9b][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url][/sup][/right]

[indent][indent] [color=#228b22]“Well, I can’t say I would be opposed to paying the dancing tax,” [/color][color=#ffffff]Forest grinned, his voice a low, affable rumble as he clapped a heavy hand on Elias’s shoulder, [/color][color=#228b22]“though I would be better if the music had a bit more of a swing to it, but if the worst comes to pass, I can make do.” [/color]

[color=#ffffff]The strong pat jolted a laugh from Elias, shaking him from his thoughts. The motion sparked a brief, involuntary inventory of his own dancing experience, or rather the conspicuous lack thereof. His repertoire was less a collection of moves and more a study in reluctant participation: the kind of aimless swaying you default to when a determined partner pulls you onto a floor and your only choices are stubborn refusal or resigned compliance. Or, on rarer occasions, a willingness he never liked to examine too closely.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]These days, Elias’s expressions of rhythm were reserved for the cathartic anonymity of a mosh pit, and that only emerged after several drinks. He had this confident, street-wise strut he often resorted to if push came to shove that could almost masquerade as dancing if observed from a distance and in low light. Actual dancing, though? That was for men with far less pride to lose. He was brave in a dozen different ways, but the dance floor presented a unique social conundrum he’d never bothered to solve.[/color]

[color=#228b22]“I think the greener pastures are worth the risk of a few spins that your friend might produce,” [/color][color=#ffffff]Forest said, his gaze drifting toward the dancefloor. [/color]

[color=#ffffff]Elias followed his look, raising his glass to his lips with the full intention of singling out Tapeesa from the mass of bodies.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]And what he saw nearly made him choke.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]There she was. Not just tolerating some new redheaded guy’s absurdly corny dance moves but throwing herself into the performance with the unbridled enthusiasm he had come to know her for turned up to the maximum. He witnessed the sprinkler, a painfully earnest rendition of the Macarena, and, gods save them all, a moonwalk attempted on uneven grass. Elias’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline with each new move until he finally had to drag his gaze away, staring into the depths of his mead as if it could explain the situation to him.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]He muttered into the rim of his drink, [/color][color=#d4af37]“No way she’s enjoying that.” [/color]

[color=#ffffff]Except that the evidence before him was irrefutable. Tapeesa’s laughter wasn’t polite or forced; it was loud and unselfconscious. She was fully committing to the bit, allowing herself to look foolish without a trace of hesitation. She was, against all odds, having pure, unadulterated fun.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]A distant part of him recognized that it had been a long time since he’d been that person. The one who would embrace any silliness, surrender any dignity, just to keep a smile on someone else’s face. A version of himself from before he’d learned that such openness often came with a cost. Once, he would have believed laughter that loud was for him, too. Now it only sounded like something he’d misplaced. He severed the thought with a final swallow of mead, letting the honeyed sweetness flood his senses and drown the nostalgic ache before it could fully form.[/color]

[color=#d4af37]“Alright,”[/color][color=#ffffff] he announced, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.[/color][color=#d4af37] “Time to go pay a bit of that dancing tax, then.” [/color][color=#ffffff]He turned to Forest, jerking his chin toward the chaotic ebb and flow of the dance floor before weaving his way into the crowd with the assumption that Forest would follow.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]He didn’t bother to announce his arrival. He simply materialized behind Tapeesa and gave her shoulder a quick poke, leaning in so his voice would carry over the thumping bass.[/color]

[color=#d4af37]“Really?”[/color][color=#ffffff] he called. [/color][color=#d4af37]“Sprinkler? Macarena? What’s next, the cha-cha slide?” [/color][color=#ffffff]The words were framed as a tease, but a layer of sarcasm bled through, making his judgment ambiguous.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]To illustrate his point, Elias abruptly shuffled two steps to the side, threw a single, perfunctory clap above his head, and spun back toward her. The grin he flashed was entirely self-aware, an admission that he looked ridiculous and a declaration that this was the absolute extent of his effort. The tax had been paid, and there was nothing more she could ask him to do, even if the idea may not have been in her mind to begin with. [/color]

[color=#d4af37]“Anyway,”[/color][color=#ffffff] he added, jerking a thumb toward the tall figure beside him while falling into a simple step with the beat.[/color][color=#d4af37] “This is Forest. He brings better drinks than whatever’s on tap if you change your mind on the whole not drinking thing.” [/color][color=#ffffff]Then, his eyes shifted to the redhead beside her, his brows lifting in open inquiry. [/color][color=#d4af37]“And who’s your new partner in crime?”[/color]

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[hr]Location: Bar --> Dancefloor
Interactions: Forest([@NoriWasHere]), Tapeesa ([@Mjolnir]), Nate ([@webboysurf])
Mentions: N/A