ššš¢š„š¢šš”
He moved into the center of the kitchen, gesturing for me to follow.
"Basic Lycan waltz," he said. "Three-count rhythm. I'll lead."
"Obviously. I'd probably lead us into a wall."
That almost-smile again. "Probably."
He extended his hand. Palm up. Formal.
I placed my hand in his. His grip was firm. Steady.
"Other hand on my shoulder," he instructed.
I obeyed. He placed his free hand lightly on my waistācareful, professional, keeping clear distance between us.
"The rhythm is: one-two-three, one-two-three. Step back with your right foot on one. Side with your left on two. Close with your right on three. Then repeat."
"Right foot back, left foot side, right foot close," I repeated. "Got it."
"Ready?"
"Absolutely not. But let's do it anyway."
He began counting. "Oneā"
I stepped back.
"ātwoā"
Stepped to the side.
"āthreeā"
Brought my feet together.
"Good. Again."
One-two-three. One-two-three.
It was... not terrible?
