Re: Edge of a rooftop; defying gravity/scaring himself
Contrary to her contrariness, the straw man thought being contrary had a lot to do with the green girl's reasons for... probably most things. She corrected him on his taking of the non-compliment (i.e., insult) and informed him with austerity that intention trumped interpretation. "Maybe," he allowed, still smiling, "but I'll do it anyway." He was teasing her. Mostly. Wise or not, he'd decided he was going to do whatever he could to keep her talking to him, whatever her intention and his interpretation.
Fiyero understood the attitude of not bothering to try, so that, if you failed, it wasn't really failure at all. It was just a lack of effort, a lack of care. To try too hard and to fail..., it just seemed... not fun. It seemed like a bother. And a bother was something he tried to avoid. In any and all iterations. Normally. But, he could be swayed. He could be swayed by a swaying girl, too stubborn to just tell him she didn't want to dance with him. Too stubborn to admit it was because she might not know how.
His hands were bristle and warmth and closed over hers in a golden curl. He pulled her close, a few steps from the edge she'd perched on like a gargoyle. His other hand went to her narrow line of a waist. She was tall, and that tail of her hair was thick and dark. There was some music tinkling upward from below, and Fiyero moved, more or less, to it. It wasn't anything too exuberant. "Well," he asked, "what do you think?"