“No, she’s got a fancy black one digital one, like your dad’s,” Ira said, with a shake of his head. “No film.”
“Of course!” Ori smiled, delighted by the little girl’s fascination. “If you want to, anyways. You’ve got a lot of time to think it through, though.” She giggled and applauded as Alida jumped up to demonstrate her dancing prowess, but her grin was jolted by a frown of worry when the four-year-old tipped over mid-spin. It was a reaction that Ira recognized from his own initial encounters with small children and their tendency to do themselves minor bodily damage on an all too regular basis. But kids were hardy, Ira knew, and Staas' kids in particular had taught him that well. And within a couple of seconds it was readily apparent that Alida was perfectly fine, and Ori took her cue from how unfazed Staas and her brother was about the fall and shook it off. Still, scary.
“Wow, really?” Ori was about to ask what kind of dancing Alida’s mother had done, but then she remembered. Oh. Right. “That’s cool,” she continued, unflustered by the near faux pas. “I’m glad I got to see your sweet moves in person. Ira’s always going on about your guyses’ dance parties.” She raised her eyebrows excitedly at Alida, flicking her gaze over to Staas. “Any chance I could get in on one?”