Re: shiloh & harlow ; dancing
In all likelihood, the other partygoers would pay Harlow and Shiloh's goblinesque mischief no mind; they had fascinating canapes to dissect with their fingertips, and effervescent, meaningless conversations about the weather to be had. Tossing empty cups off of balconies and stirring a sour note rift into otherwise easy listening was small potatoes as far as chaos went, but there was nothing malicious about Harlow, and never had been. "I admit to being poorly versed in the music of bad apples. What about death metal? Would death metal be good?" A being torn from the hand-painted pages of Hans Christian Anderson, she looked to Shiloh, like a most apt pupil. Her eyes, a study of the truest blue.
"I'm thinking anything sacrilegious," which may have been a little too on the nose, given their last playdate. "Or something overly sexual to make everyone uncomfortable?" Not that anybody seemed even the littlest bit invested in listening to the music.
In the end, she selected a song that wasn't particularly offensive, but rather could have been an anthem for Shiloh and herself at this point. It was a short song, and not one prime for dancing. Even so, Harlow cranked the volume, mosh-pit jumped to the beat, and latched onto Shiloh's sleeve with demand that he 'come and spin' her 'like before.' With any luck they'd knock some furniture over before the song was over.