A jive, eh? Dirty pool, old man. But he could play dirty, too.
He deftly mirrored (mirrored, not followed) the Doctor's frenetic steps, and added a double kick-twist flourish once he was out of manhandling range again.
"Is it my fault-" Tugging the Doctor hard into dangerously-close proximity, "-we're both suckers for a pretty face?," he finished, sending the taller man into what must have been an uncomfortable brush with the floor as he spun him over his arm.
Jack gripped the Doctor's hands tight and brought them head-to-head while his legs upped the tempo and the footwork, and the TARDIS obligingly slipped in some rollicking trumpets. He threw a smirk between them to keep their noses from touching. "You don't loosen up even when you cut loose. It's a real shame."