Dylan had laughed aloud when she'd woken up to read her dare - to dance, not walk, everywhere she went for the day. Not hard. She felt like she did that half the time anyway, though she was being more careful about it, because she didn't want to fail her dare just because she forgot she was supposed to be dancing. So she'd shimmied her way through her morning routine, pas de bourre'd downstairs for breakfast, and generally bopped her way from place to place as she wandered around the house.
She noticed Scotty outside building a snowman - a sad one, from the looks of it - around lunchtime, and she made up a couple thermoses of hot cocoa before heading out to him. There wasn't a specific dance move she was doing - there was a sort of bastardized samba mixed with some hip hop, a little bit of twerking, and bits of remembered choreography thrown in whenever it would fit. She briefly thought that she shouldn't have stirred the cocoa - those thermoses were getting a thorough shaking.
"What up?" she greeted as she approached, holding out one of the thermoses to him. "I don't want to critique your artistic choices or whatever, but I don't know that I would have added paint to snow. At least not that paint. Spray paint would've probably worked better." Since she wasn't walking, she stopped dancing. "Or was that a specific look you were going for?"