May I Have This Dance? O/O (CLOSED)

"What do you think?" she asked, a sly grin on her lips.

"Well, clearly I think." He chortled quietly.

She laughed again. "I'm very predictable, aren't I?"

"Comfortably so," he hummed.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Comfort is defined by predictability," he sipped his drink, slate eyes flitting to the side.

She looked at him, propping her head up with her fist. "Is that so?"

He blew a lock of ebony hair from his forehead. "I think so." He smiled gently.

She giggled. "You're always so interesting to talk to, Peter," she said, setting her coffee on the counter.

"Well.. for a failed Psych major, I suppose," he took a seat in the worn leather couch perched in their break room. "My brothers stayed up all night watching The Lion King over and over and when I asked them why, they said, We're establishing dominance," he chuckled.

Violet laughed. "Seriously? That's so weird!"

"Well, they're boys," he chortled softly.

"Well, they're boys," he chortled softly.

"Mmm… That's true," she said thoughtfully.

(You have obtained a stalker.)

(Coolio!)

He sipped hs beverage, "Levi's got a girlfriend," Levi, the middle of the three brothers. Alex was the youngest, and had their father's bright ginger hair.

(Ah. Thought this was open. Never mind! I'll stalk if that's ok though?)

(Yeah definitely! And sorry, I always forget to change the title!)

He sipped hs beverage, "Levi's got a girlfriend," Levi, the middle of the three brothers. Alex was the youngest, and had their father's bright ginger hair.

"Really?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Mhm." He grunted, wiping his mouth. "I disapprove wholeheartedly."

"Who is it? Do I know her?" Violet was intrigued. She sipped from her cup until it was near empty.

"Nah," her partner replied. "She's.. special." Special, in Peter's vocabulary, meant someone he highly disapproved of, but didn't want to offend anyone by saying such. He had a plethora of his own politically correct euphemisms– well insulated instead of fat, per sé. Only people closer to him, such as her, could be fluent in his language.

"Ah…" Violet nodded, looking at him. "Tell me what you really think," she teased.

He tilted his head, then to the other side to pop his neck. "She doesn't dress very modestly." Peter mumbled, lip twitching at the reminder thta his little brother was under such an.. unpreferred influence.

"Oh… I see," she muttered. She finished the last of her coffee and felt energized. "Shall we?" she asked, putting her cup down on the counter.

"One more sip," he replied, tipping the cup all the way to chug the last remnants of his beverage. He tossed the cup into the trash and stood. The coat over his shoulders became shed to the side, "Mind the shoulder, it's sore from last time,"

"Right," she said with a smile. "And my ankle too."

"Aye." He acknowledged, peeling off the turtleneck as they walked to meet one another on the polished hardwood of the practice dance floor. He always wore tanktops underneath, the Drunk Dad tanktops as Alex humorously dubbed them.

She lifted her chin. "Ready?"

"Yes maam," he smiled.