The night had indeed been long, but as it hadn't devolved into utter disaster and the building was still standing, Al could almost count it as a success.
...Well, except for the part where Ed would probably murder him in the morning.
No time to worry about that now, though. Amelia's message had fortunately came during a time of relative calm, and Al didn't hesitate to accept her offer. The idea of dancing had grown more appealing as the evening wore on; things had been incredibly stressful for a while there, and they were both probably in dire need of a moment of normalcy. Carefully, he slipped out of the main room and headed for their meeting place, mindful of anyone who might try to follow him.
Al entered the hallway and stood before her, smiling genuinely for the first time that night. There was no need for any of the false cheer and bravado he'd displayed for the other guests, and the act slipped away easily. He should say something, he knew, but now that they were finally alone and face-to-face, a sudden sense of nervousness made him falter. Situations like this were entirely new to him. Dismissing it as best he could, Al offered his hand. "...Hey. How are you doing?"
"Uweh . . ." Her face brightened considerably at the sight of him, though yes, she was tired -- it was readable in her face and in the way she leaned against the wall, slightly slumping. "Just a little tired, that's all. I think we'll all sleep really well tonight."
Because as Al had noted, they might well need the rest for Ed's wrath in the morning.
She accepted his hand, pulling herself upright with a soft rustle of skirts, leaving her comm on the bench. "You're okay too?"
"I'm fine. Are you sure you feel like doing this?" He expected a yes no matter how tired she was--Amelia was just that sort of person--but it didn't to hurt to ask.
Al remained close, finally getting a good look at her in full formal attire. Maybe it was due to the time period he hailed from or his strange expectations about princesses, but the dress she was wearing didn't strike him as unusual. It suited her, somehow. "You look really nice, by the way."
He felt a bit rude for not saying so earlier, but they hadn't really had an opportunity for casual conversation.
Pretending to be another person did tend to put a damper on conversation. It was nice to see him acting normally again; it was strange when someone you knew looked through you as though you were someone else. And even though she'd helped to dye his hair, it had thrown her off all evening; frequently she'd lost him in the crowd -- a feeling both comforting and discomforting in the same moment.
Normalcy for a few minutes was indeed nice.
"Really?" She looked pleased at that, pulling away enough to look down at herself. "It's close to what I'd wear at home. I got a few strange looks, but that's probably expected, isn't it? The dresses they wear here are pretty, but they're all really strange."
She adjusted her hand in his so that they were palm to palm, looping her fingers through his in preparation for a dancing position. "And of course I want to! I waited for it -- and you wanted it too, right?"
"Yeah," Al said, nodding in agreement to both questions. "I just hope I won't be too terrible at it."
He was still as she guided his hand, awkwardly wondering where he was supposed to place the other one. He could try imitating the positions he'd seen the others taking on the dance floor, but it was probably safer to wait and let Amelia show him how to do this properly.
When he didn't move, she took action with a faint smile, reaching for his other hand, placing it at the small of her back, her own hand going up to his shoulder. "Okay, it's in three-time -- you hear the beats? One, two, three, one two three . . . That's probably the simplest of anything. For now, just step every third beat to get used to it -- and when I move forward, you move back. When I move back, you move forward."
". . . It's not as hard as the explanation, I promise."
She counted off the beats. "Okay, ready . . . step right, two, three, back, two, three, left, two, three, forward, two, three . . ."
Al held onto her more gently than was necessary; even as a human, he was occasionally wary of his strength. The closeness was alien to him as well, and his efforts at fighting back the urge to blush were futile. Al looked away with a self-depreciating laugh, hoping she wouldn't think he was too weird for the way he acted.
Amelia's explanation was simple enough, but Al still suspected most of it was lost on him. Beats? He wasn't particularly musically inclined, and had only the vaguest understanding of how to pick out such things.
"Okay." He didn't sound too sure of himself. "I guess you got a lot of practice back home, huh?"
Al tried to follow her instructions, watching his feet as if that would help him maneuver them correctly. His movements were hesitant and delayed at first, both from the unfamiliarity and his determination to not fall into the old cliché of stepping all over her.
He might not know what beats were, but he might be able to work them out; she was counting them out softly, keeping in time with the punctuations of the music.
Looking up at him, she caught his blush and giggled. "Mm, you and Ed-san don't do this kind of thing much, do you?" It was more statement than question. "I kind of had to learn, whether I wanted to or not. I think it's still fun, though. My sister danced with me when I was really little, and then my cousin later. Saillune had a lot of court functions some years to help maintain peace negotiations."
Al counted along with her in his head, reminding himself to think of this logically. Taking a step on cue here and there couldn't be more complicated than learning to fight. He also knew Amelia wouldn't react anything like Izumi if he messed up, which was definitely a plus.
She seemed to be comfortable enough too, and that helped Al relax in turn. He lifted his gaze as she talked about her homeland, listening with a smile. Being in a city like this must be so strange for her.
"No, I've never done anything like this before, so thank you for being patient with me. It's really good one of us knows what they're doing." Inquiring further about the family she was separated from might be a little depressing, so Al ventured back to safer topics. "Have you had any fun tonight? I know we've kept you pretty busy."
Amelia would not be rabid about his missing a step and hitting her foot, no. There would be no severe beating in this dance lesson.
"I've had some fun." She made a small face at him -- not the first she'd made that evening. "You didn't have to worry so much about that. Besides, this was important! You and Ed-san had to find out what was going on if you could, right?"
A pause. "Were *you* really okay, or was that just saying?"
Al made a noncommittal noise at her first statements, but refrained from real comment. The argument over whether or not she should concern herself with their issues was one they would more than likely be having many times in the future, so there was no need to get into it again tonight. And as much as he hated the idea of her getting hurt, Al couldn't deny that it was nice to have that kind of support. He and Ed hadn't exactly made a lot of friends in recent years.
"I'm fine," he answered, smiling again to show he meant it. Some things might have gone horribly wrong, but he felt attending the ball had been worth it in the end--especially now. "I've had some fun too, so you shouldn't worry either. For a party in a place like this, it really wasn't so bad."
Here away from the noise and bustle of the crowd, it was easier to put aside thoughts of Lust and his other worries, even if only for a few minutes. The song the band was playing was nice too--nothing like that bizarre noise they tried to pass off as music on the radio. It almost reminded him of home. Dancing... well, that was going to take some work, but Al was enjoying himself all the same. He hadn't tripped over his own feet or knocked Amelia down yet, both signs he was slowly catching on.
He was doing fine -- no fractured toes, no sweaty palms creating pools of dampness on her dress. In fact he held her almost as though holding an egg, as though afraid that even slight pressure would crack the shell. It was kind of cute, really. Amelia took it more as a sign of shyness than anything else. Pleased with his progress, she attempted something slightly more complicated.
"You can turn me, too." Adjusting her hand and his hand with it, she released his shoulder, raising both their hands above her head and turning beneath it before coming back to her original position."
A pause. "And I was wondering about something, too . . ."
Al watched her turn, a quick flurry of skirts and motion, before carefully repeating the action a few steps later. He wanted to be sure he had it right. "Is there a certain time when you're supposed to do it?"
He hoped it wasn't one of those things you were supposed to judge by feeling alone--he wasn't usually very good at those.
Amelia seemed to be on the verge of asking a question, so Al tilted his head, curious and encouraging. "What is it?"
She moved with his guidance, twisting under his hand and pulling back in again. "No specific time, really -- just when you want to. It's not for all the time, just occasionally -- dancing is a lot of art, and you can do it however you want."
"And my question . . ." She had no idea that she was pulling into something potentially dangerous. ". . . Why doesn't Lust know what you look like? Because you've fought her before, right?"
An art? Al had expected as much, but the confirmation was still slightly troubling. Things like that tended not to mesh well with the scientifically-minded. He'd just have to trust his instincts and hope for the best.
He blinked a bit at the question, though he wasn't truly caught off guard. Al had known someone would ask eventually--it simply didn't make sense to say Lust had fought and followed him without having any idea what he looked like. Fortunately, living in a city full of masked vigilantes might make a watered down version of the truth sound a little more believable.
"Oh, that's because I was wearing a suit of armor when we fought the last time," he said confidently. "Lust never actually saw my face."
...Well, except for the part where Ed would probably murder him in the morning.
No time to worry about that now, though. Amelia's message had fortunately came during a time of relative calm, and Al didn't hesitate to accept her offer. The idea of dancing had grown more appealing as the evening wore on; things had been incredibly stressful for a while there, and they were both probably in dire need of a moment of normalcy. Carefully, he slipped out of the main room and headed for their meeting place, mindful of anyone who might try to follow him.
Al entered the hallway and stood before her, smiling genuinely for the first time that night. There was no need for any of the false cheer and bravado he'd displayed for the other guests, and the act slipped away easily. He should say something, he knew, but now that they were finally alone and face-to-face, a sudden sense of nervousness made him falter. Situations like this were entirely new to him. Dismissing it as best he could, Al offered his hand. "...Hey. How are you doing?"
She did look a little tired.
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Because as Al had noted, they might well need the rest for Ed's wrath in the morning.
She accepted his hand, pulling herself upright with a soft rustle of skirts, leaving her comm on the bench. "You're okay too?"
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Al remained close, finally getting a good look at her in full formal attire. Maybe it was due to the time period he hailed from or his strange expectations about princesses, but the dress she was wearing didn't strike him as unusual. It suited her, somehow. "You look really nice, by the way."
He felt a bit rude for not saying so earlier, but they hadn't really had an opportunity for casual conversation.
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Normalcy for a few minutes was indeed nice.
"Really?" She looked pleased at that, pulling away enough to look down at herself. "It's close to what I'd wear at home. I got a few strange looks, but that's probably expected, isn't it? The dresses they wear here are pretty, but they're all really strange."
She adjusted her hand in his so that they were palm to palm, looping her fingers through his in preparation for a dancing position. "And of course I want to! I waited for it -- and you wanted it too, right?"
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He was still as she guided his hand, awkwardly wondering where he was supposed to place the other one. He could try imitating the positions he'd seen the others taking on the dance floor, but it was probably safer to wait and let Amelia show him how to do this properly.
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". . . It's not as hard as the explanation, I promise."
She counted off the beats. "Okay, ready . . . step right, two, three, back, two, three, left, two, three, forward, two, three . . ."
Not to worry, Al. She was prepared for awkward.
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Amelia's explanation was simple enough, but Al still suspected most of it was lost on him. Beats? He wasn't particularly musically inclined, and had only the vaguest understanding of how to pick out such things.
"Okay." He didn't sound too sure of himself. "I guess you got a lot of practice back home, huh?"
Al tried to follow her instructions, watching his feet as if that would help him maneuver them correctly. His movements were hesitant and delayed at first, both from the unfamiliarity and his determination to not fall into the old cliché of stepping all over her.
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Looking up at him, she caught his blush and giggled. "Mm, you and Ed-san don't do this kind of thing much, do you?" It was more statement than question. "I kind of had to learn, whether I wanted to or not. I think it's still fun, though. My sister danced with me when I was really little, and then my cousin later. Saillune had a lot of court functions some years to help maintain peace negotiations."
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She seemed to be comfortable enough too, and that helped Al relax in turn. He lifted his gaze as she talked about her homeland, listening with a smile. Being in a city like this must be so strange for her.
"No, I've never done anything like this before, so thank you for being patient with me. It's really good one of us knows what they're doing." Inquiring further about the family she was separated from might be a little depressing, so Al ventured back to safer topics. "Have you had any fun tonight? I know we've kept you pretty busy."
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"I've had some fun." She made a small face at him -- not the first she'd made that evening. "You didn't have to worry so much about that. Besides, this was important! You and Ed-san had to find out what was going on if you could, right?"
A pause. "Were *you* really okay, or was that just saying?"
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"I'm fine," he answered, smiling again to show he meant it. Some things might have gone horribly wrong, but he felt attending the ball had been worth it in the end--especially now. "I've had some fun too, so you shouldn't worry either. For a party in a place like this, it really wasn't so bad."
Here away from the noise and bustle of the crowd, it was easier to put aside thoughts of Lust and his other worries, even if only for a few minutes. The song the band was playing was nice too--nothing like that bizarre noise they tried to pass off as music on the radio. It almost reminded him of home. Dancing... well, that was going to take some work, but Al was enjoying himself all the same. He hadn't tripped over his own feet or knocked Amelia down yet, both signs he was slowly catching on.
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"You can turn me, too." Adjusting her hand and his hand with it, she released his shoulder, raising both their hands above her head and turning beneath it before coming back to her original position."
A pause. "And I was wondering about something, too . . ."
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He hoped it wasn't one of those things you were supposed to judge by feeling alone--he wasn't usually very good at those.
Amelia seemed to be on the verge of asking a question, so Al tilted his head, curious and encouraging. "What is it?"
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"And my question . . ." She had no idea that she was pulling into something potentially dangerous. ". . . Why doesn't Lust know what you look like? Because you've fought her before, right?"
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He blinked a bit at the question, though he wasn't truly caught off guard. Al had known someone would ask eventually--it simply didn't make sense to say Lust had fought and followed him without having any idea what he looked like. Fortunately, living in a city full of masked vigilantes might make a watered down version of the truth sound a little more believable.
"Oh, that's because I was wearing a suit of armor when we fought the last time," he said confidently. "Lust never actually saw my face."
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