Ballroom; the edges
Joss threaded her arm through his, slender white hand on the stark black of suit-sleeve and she looked as happy to have it there as she would if Brandon himself had offered escort. Her smile was luminescent, nothing timid at all now, and the little steps taken to get to his side were light and skipping ones -- as if she simply could not contain herself any longer. If she knew more than he it was only in that occasionally she would help him on and give a bright, encouraging smile each time he stumbled, and she floated on that dance-floor as if he were the best of partners that could be afforded.
And if she didn't talk much (because she was Joss) and what conversation there was, was limited to Blytech's own conversational gambits, she had a way of looking quite intent when listening until right up until the moment she slid away with a shy thank-you and that seafoam silk disappeared amongst the dresses, you didn't realize she had said nothing much of merit at all -- apart from giving her name.