Miles Morales/Captain America
"Out where?" he asked and then glanced at the dance floor. Ah, right. He smiled sheepishly. His cheeks becoming ruddier, though you could probably not tell what with the mood lighting being what it was. He shook his head. "Not yet," he said, "but soon." He chuckled. "I'm afraid my dancing talents are lost on the music of today." Except for maybe the Charleston. He'd learned pretty quickly that the Charleston was more versatile than people might believe!
The thing about a trained soldier was... Well, he was a trained soldier. He knew how to pick up cues, and so as Miles attention drifted in the direction Miles gaze seemed drawn to -- he scanned the possible area and settled on a certain blond teen. "Ah, the blond dame," right? he asked and chuckled, "a lot of men are a sucker for a blond with a pretty smile." He paused. "And an intimidating intellect that often surpasses their own." He wore a fond smile, though, as he thought of his girl. "Though some of us prefer brunettes." He glanced back at Miles. "Why don't you cut in and ask her to dance?"