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[itwas_perfect]

She'd worked herself to the bone.

She needed to get herself into shape. She needed it. It didn't seem to matter that there wasn't any performance. There wasn't any opening. There was only Nina, and now there was Lily with her eyes smiles and dark eyes, and Thomas with all his concern that she didn't understand

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[dualites]

He'd been meaning to check out the studio ever since hearing that one existed at all. At any rate, everywhere else seemed less hospitable. The jukebox wouldn't stop playing Tchaikovsky, and the jungle was hardly his type of environment. He had yet to actually meet River, but the generally saccharine nature of most of the people on the island didn't lead him to think that she'd mind much if he logged a few hours without necessarily asking first.

The last time that he'd seriously danced had been ten or so years ago. In other words, it had been a considerable amount of time, but, rusty or not, he'd remained generally active. He'd started out in the corps, and no one simply forgot training like that. He wasn't really dressed to dance (a grey sweater and black slacks - the clothes box had been taken by a kind mood a couple of days ago), but he seemed instantly more comfortable once he was in the actual space, although a fraction of that ease slipped away halfway across the threshold as he was immediately met by the sight of a girl in the middle of a fouetté (or rather, a series of them).

Once again, he shouldn't really have been surprised. Nina.

It was too late to be completely subtle in coming into the studio, but he did his best to close the door quietly, keeping his eyes on her as he did.

[itwas_perfect]

In the mirror, she saw the shape of him, a glimpse of his face over her shoulder, and her breath caught, her heart leaping in her chest. She wobbled, losing her momentum, but she didn't fall, didn't stumble, coming instead to a stop that seemed at least vaguely intentional.

Just behind her, someone was laughing.

"Thomas," she said, stretching her calf muscles and offering him a tentative smile in the mirror.

[dualites]

"Sorry," he offered, although the tone of his voice was only half apologetic. "I hope I didn't startle you." Smiling back, he kept his gaze on her a moment longer before leaning down to slip off the shoes he was wearing, not wishing to track dirt and mud into the studio.

He had to wonder if she'd kept practicing since arriving here; he wouldn't have put it past her despite there being no performance to prepare for anymore. Just as he'd eventually decided to come down and visit the studio, dance wasn't something anyone just let go.

It didn't even occur to him to ask if she minded that he stayed, the next words out of his mouth instead: "Working on the coda?"

[itwas_perfect]

Ducking her head in a slight nod, she admitted, "I don't even know why. It's... familiar."

She watched him out of the corner of her eye, her focus narrowed in on him and only him, while she tried to pretend she wasn't staring. After all the practicing, weeks and weeks of it, the last time they'd been alone in a room together, she'd humiliated herself.

Open your mouth... Open it...

"It's important I don't lose it." Of anyone, she knew Thomas would understand.

[dualites]

"Fair enough." It wasn't something he'd argue, his agreement implied in his delivery. As he moved about the edge of the room, not wishing to encroach if she wished to continue working on the coda (he was content, for the moment at least, just to watch), the slight echo of his footsteps came almost as a comfort, the feeling once again rooted in familiarity.

He knew full well how their last solo encounter had gone, and the recollection, while not easy per se to drown out, was also not, so far, the crux of what was going on here.

"How does it feel?" Beyond familiar, came the tacit end. He wanted to know how the dance felt to her - how she thought she was doing. It was rare that he ever brought himself around to that question, but it wasn't one he failed completely in reaching.

[itwas_perfect]

"Fine. It's fine," she answered quickly. A little too quickly, but there wasn't any real reason to lie to him. There was more reason to be honest with him than there might have been in his studio, with so much riding on her performance.

"A little clumsy," she added, "I've been keeping up with it as best I can, but when I first got here, I..." she trailed off, unable to put words to how she'd felt, torn away from the most important night of her life, and literally dumped on a beach worlds away from anyone she knew. She'd hardly kept up with her warm-ups, let alone put on a pair of pointe shoes.

[dualites]

While Thomas couldn't say that he knew exactly how she'd felt, he had a fair idea. Although his immediate question was how much time on the barre she had to compensate for, how much time she'd lost, but he managed to bite the questions back, instead offering up a slight, but sympathetic, smile.

"Don't worry about it," he said, although he knew the words were fairly hollow. You're so close, he wanted to say, and although the words never left his mouth, they were obvious in the way that he regarded her as he crossed his arms across his chest, head canting to one side.

"Well. Let's see it."

[itwas_perfect]

Hesitating, her eyes widened and she took a half a step back, a nervous smile flitting across her face.

"Wait-- Now?" she asked, hating how meek her voice sounded. Again. Always. She could feel it, feel herself trying to gather up a little more strength, to grow a fucking spine for once, but she withered every time. The pristine flower. The little ingenue. Sweet, sweet girl. My little princess.

"But I..."

[dualites]

"Unless you'd been meaning to pack up," he amended, eyebrows rising as if posing a dare. "I don't know how long you've been practicing." Time was often not much of an object, but he knew that there was only so far that one could push the human body. Although she didn't quite look as if she'd reached that point yet, this was her call, not his.

Within an instant, however, he relented, lips pulling to one side, not in a smile but in an expression that was warmer than the one he'd been wearing.

"At least we're not running on a deadline." (Both a blessing and a curse, but not a point he intended to bring up.)

[itwas_perfect]

"No, we're not," she murmured, a deeper strain of disappointment and sadness weighting down her voice. She fidgeted, a momentary loss of control before she dropped her hands to her sides, lifted her chin and said, "I could do it now," with every ounce of confidence she could muster.

When it came to him, she would always have something to prove.

[dualites]

Something in his expression seemed to change at the shift in her tone of voice, equal parts approval and a sort of thrill. He knew what she was capable of, and despite as careful as he was trying to be, he wouldn't deny wanting to see a reiteration of what she'd managed on opening night. (And not, perhaps, strictly in reference to how well she'd danced.) With a slight nod, he gestured out at the studio.

"Whenever you're ready."