Re: The Schoolboy/The Witch
He threw a glance around the car, worried about what someone might think, but in all reality no one seemed to have paid much attention to either of them. Perhaps they assumed young people would be young people, and were leaving it at that and as he turned his attention back to her face, and his gaze fell on hers, excitement took hold in a way he could no longer deny. Her fingers were certain in his, and she was confident, as if she knew precisely what she wanted from him and the entire situation, and that was appealing in its own way. Most of the girls he'd ever danced with had expected him to know and take charge, and he could do it, but this was turning expectations upon its head, and he liked it.
The smile he gave her then was genuine, light, a little expectant. Gone were concerns about people disappearing off the car, and he'd forgotten that he had been thinking to ask her if she'd seen the person who disappeared. Instead he was taking in what she said: a set, and motions of their feet, and they wouldn't need music.
A moment earlier he might have questioned the wisdom of removing their shoes on a train, or maybe rather the propriety of doing so, but he didn't question this, and instead just bent to unlace the ties on his brown leather shoes. He slid these off, and pushed them back to under his seat, out of the way, and after a moment's hesitation, pulled the dark wool socks he had on his feet off as well. It felt strange to stand there with his feet bare in the train car, and he leaned away from the discomfort of that, and instead watched her feet. "We just move our feet?" he finally asked. "Not our arms, or..." hesitation. "Every dance I've done involves um," his cheeks flushed slightly. "I guess I've done more waltzes than anything?"