crypt | meme #004 | slow-dancing ( think outside the boxstep )

meme #004 | slow-dancing ( think outside the boxstep )

slow dancing

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FORMAL OR INFORMAL, WITH MUSIC OR WITHOUT, YOU COULD BE AT A GLAMOUROUS GALA WHILE A SINGER CROONS SOFTLY OR IN THE SILENCE OF YOUR OWN LIVING ROOM. WHEREVER YOU ARE, YOU HAVE THE URGE TO DANCE. DID YOU ASK YOUR PARTNER OR DID THEY ASK YOU? HAVE YOU GOT TWO LEFT FEET OR IS THE VIENNESE WALTZ YOUR JAM? IT COULD BE AWKWARD, IT COULD BE ROMANTIC. EITHER WAY IT'S CUTE AS HELL.

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[This shouldn't be happening. This shouldn't be happening. This should not be happening. Could he place any more emphasis on that? Probably. He could emphasize the thought a hundred times, write an entire novel that consisted of nothing but that phrase, hire a blimp to display the words night and day for an entire week but sadly the full effect of it would never be received because he was Barnaby Brooks Jr. and for the sake of his reputation and image, he could not turn a woman down in public.

Until now, the very first exception he'd ever made, because he was Barnaby Brooks Jr. and you do not simply just decide to put your hand on his... his... behind, for absolutely no reason at all. Who had even allowed such a person to be invited to this private event, a small gala held by the mayor in celebration of the city's anniversary? What ties did she have to the less than a hundred or so individuals in this ballroom? It didn't matter though. No, not anymore. All that had mattered was that as soon as that woman had turned her head just the slightest bit away Barnaby had been intent on walking away as fast as was humanly possible. Even when he overheard her call out his name after he'd managed to get a few feet away he did not stop, didn't think of stopping, wouldn't ever turn back to the embarrassing horror of what had just happened.

One more dance, it was what he had promised her when he'd been deceived by her innocent charm, had payed half-attention to the fawning and the enamored twinkle in her eye because it really wasn't anything new, until she'd moved so quickly he could have sworn it was due to NEXT powers and her hands had wandered behind him and-- he couldn't think about it. It almost made him break out into a cold sweat. Even with his escape, there was still one more dance, and he could hear the clack of her heels stumbling (he would never understand why women intended on wearing shoes they had no idea on how to maneuver in, though that was partially a lie. She'd been able to maneuver before. All over his feet) as well as her hushed excuses to whoever she was bumping into. Someone, he needed to find someone to help him before she devoured him whole with her hands and her feet.

--and then predictably enough, just as he'd assumed, there stood a familiar figure at the far end of the room where the food had been kept. If he hadn't been in such a rush he would have calmed down, explained his situation to his partner and suggested his assistance on how to deal with his problem. But the heels, he could hear the heels. She was coming for him. And so instead, all Kotetsu received was Barnaby's hand on his shoulder and a tight squeeze to get his attention while he leaned in to whisper hurriedly at his side.]

Kotetsu, I need you to dance with me.

[ Formal events like this-- unless there's some kind of animatronic statue of Mr. Legend waving and saluting and spouting out catchphrases to command every second of his attention, Kotetsu couldn't care less for the speeches, the "entertainment" (waltzes aren't entertaining!), the way he has to shake hands with people he's never met, never heard of, and will never see again hundreds of times throughout the night.

All he can be thankful for is that this is a relatively small event, and his hand's only touched about thirty others so far tonight before he slipped away from Lloyds and back to his natural habitat by the buffet table. He isn't one for obsessive-compulsive antibac spray but after contact with so many weirdly sweaty palms, the idea sounds vaguely plausible as he piles snacks (--canapés) onto a fancy-looking crystal (or glass? Card would've worked!) plate using his left hand instead, slowly munching on a salmon roll as is business when both hands are full. Well, whatever. Barnaby's had to shake at least twice the number of businessman hands as he has, he's sure, and he won't be touching any of the feta pastries with that number of ladies just lining up for a spin on the dancefloor. His loss, really.

So who other than Barnaby Brooks Jr. himself should break through his momentary reverie where his only five-minute mission is to get one of everything on the table before the next song starts, with that firm clasp on his shoulder-- even through the padding of his suit-- and the rushed hiss of a demand. ]

Mmnf? [ --is all he can manage through the last inch of salmon and crispy fried wrap before he withdraws it into his mouth and swallows, then looking at Barnaby with a look less agog and more vaguely surprised, amused, even, eyes wide with the beginnings of a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. ] What, and leave your fans hanging? Come on, you can do better than this old man for a dance partner! [ And Kotetsu has better things to do with his mouth than convince this pretty-boy to dance with a high-class probably rich business associate. Like eat salmon rolls. He's on the cusp of a laugh and reaching out to pat Barnaby on the shoulder in return, maybe even encourage him back to his crowd of hangers-on... but something catches his attention, without turning; the rhythmic clicking of, what he knows from experience, a woman spurred on by desperation and anger. Just from measuring Barnaby's expression, he realises Agnes is a terrifying woman to be able to give him these Pavlovian responses. But as far as he can tell, that's just someone getting the tempo wrong on the dancefloor. Right? ]

[The untranslatable muffled reply caused Barnaby to take a small step back, partially due to his surprise and partially due to disgust. He didn't have the time to look but he hoped that even if 1% of the food in Kotetsu's mouth hadn't stayed there when he'd spoken, then it at least was currently not on his clothing. The shoes were a questionable sacrifice, seeing as they had already been dealt with an unsightly fate a few minutes ago. He could have easily taken the time to berate his partner's lack of manners, even get him a napkin to first take care of himself and then whatever mess Kotetsu had left behind, but that required more time than he had left at this point and this was not a time for words anyway. Barnaby only needed action, and so with a shake of his head and a sigh he removed his hand from Kotetsu's shoulder only to try and remove the plate of food (why had he put so many? He didn't intend to eat all of it in one go did he? This mixture of textures and flavors couldn't possibly be appetizing) from his hands.]

It doesn't matter, you'll do just fine. If you're concerned about missing out on the food I'll pay the caterers myself to make another batch of everything when we're done. [His shoulders tensed as part of the orchestra began to warm up. He could hear strings plucked, then the stray keys of a piano, a horn played a sharp that was too sharp and all through it the heels kept a steady and quick rhythm. Barnaby could feel a suspicious burning heat on his back which meant that woman was getting closer, ready for the kill. Barnaby had never begged for anything, because he does not beg, and so he would not beg. But right now? The look that he was pinning Kotetsu down with? He was clearly begging. Please save him, please.]

Please?

[ Caught between brushing off Barnaby's offer even as he saw right through him and pouting at that comment-- 'just fine', is that it?-- the clincher comes with that gentle push on his hand gripping the plate like a lifeline, drawing from Kotetsu a sound of childlike protest along with some resistance in that hand. He can't help but think he's a little spoiled as a partner, though, if Barnaby would go to those lengths just for a few potentially tedious, awkward moments dozily circling the room with him. Something has to be up. After a moment he frowns, allowing the plate to be taken aside, stepping sideways to face him better. ]

Geez, Bunny, what's so urgent that you gotta- [ But several things hit him at once. The squawk of that horn in the orchestra, the furious clacking footsteps that definitely aren't getting any quieter, the shocking clarity in Barnaby's eyes-- that plea. Barnaby never asks so politely, so plainly, at least not without some biting sarcasm or dismal resigning tone to whatever he's asking Kotetsu not to do during missions. That hint of a question at the end even lays the foundations of guilt if he even thinks about declining this request. It makes him blink, spotting that rapidly intensifying movement some metres behind his partner's back, the gleam of patent leather on pointed toes--

He'll have to be forgiven for the next moment where he breaks Barnaby's gaze completely, pushes his right hand to his partner's hip to guide him smoothly and swiftly around himself as he turns, Barnaby's back to the buffet table briefly, Kotetsu's to the rest of the hall. That half-circle completed, having spun lightly on his heels, he reaches for Barnaby's wrist with his left hand, takes the first natural step barely a beat out of time with the first bars of this next slow song. He's leading, and if Barnaby's going to complain?-- he should have made the first move. For the moment, his eyes are averted, drawn aside-- it's unclear if he's ignoring the sound of the heels somewhere behind himself or listening out for it, but he sighs, voice low; ] Don't have to look at me like that. This better be important.

[The seconds ticked by one by one in his head while he waited with as little anxiousness as possible. Barnaby hasn't reached a breaking point in his patience but he had the sneaking suspicion that it would happen at any moment, especially if Kotetsu continued to struggle with him over what to do with the finger food that was standing between his freedom or his demise. Really? Was he really going to pick food over him? What else would he have to bribe him with? A month's supply of catered lunches as well?

But the ideas never came, his train of though completely ending there because before he could even react they were moving, moving far too hurriedly for him to even know what was even happening. Barnaby had almost assumed that Kotetsu was pushing him away due to the hand on his waist-- but the hand stayed, and he hadn't moved far at all, then there was a hand in his own and they were moving again and... wait, who told him to lead?

Once Barnaby's awareness of the situation returned he swallowed in order to regain his voice and immediately tried to tug his hand out of Kotetsu's grip. Though his lips were now in a completely flat line of composure, it was evident that he was not pleased with what Kotetsu had done. He'd had a plan, and this was part of it, but this was not how it was supposed to have happened. He answered back in his own hushed voice, eyes fixed on his partner and only his partner because if they wandered he was sure that he'd meet those burning feminine eyes again, and though Barnaby was not one to admit readily to fear, that... was something to at least make him nervous.]

I'm sorry, I'll explain afterward. Now can you please let me go so we can do this properly?

[ How did he know he wouldn't be happy about this, even though they're now officially dancing like he wanted? His pride flares up in that second-- his hold is light on Barnaby's hip after that initial spin and those fngers slip easily out of his grip, and hey, if he wants to ruin what was a perfectly executed pair position, he can go ahead. Kotetsu's eyebrows knit, finally bringing himself to face Barnaby against the slowly turning backdrop of people and a half-lit dancefloor they seem to be gradually approaching. ]

Ehhh? What part of this isn't 'properly'? And what's the big idea with that, huh? [ Flexing the fingers of his now-empty left hand to indicate Barnaby letting go-- what gives, really? It isn't like they're stumbling; Kotetsu's leading without a hitch (other than his partner not co-operating), his steps are careful, they're almost in time. ]

[In fact, Barnaby was very aware that their movements were... almost flawless. Almost. A lot of emphasis on that word, because if he were to admit to anything other than almost then that would give Kotetsu far too much credit and he wasn't quite ready for that yet. By now he had managed to somewhat block out the prospective daggers aimed his way from wherever the woman from earlier had decided to watch him, and he tried his best to keep his focus more-so on the soft rhythm of the music that flowed through the room, his steps fluid and practiced and he really had no idea that Kotetsu could dance this relatively well... again, only almost. Almost. His brow furrowed slightly as his eyes darted to Kotetsu's now free hand, and when he reached for it again it had almost seemed as if he'd just about been ready to concede defeat.]

It's not bad.

[--but of course, that would have been such a silly idea, and when his fingers wrapped around Kotetsu's wrist he attempted to pull the hand up to rest on his shoulder. As for the hand on his hip, he was already well in the process of attempting to tug it away to further reverse their positions. All done without a single misstep either. He'd done this more than enough times to be able to multitask at the same time.]

But I had been under the impression that I would lead.

[ 'Not bad'-- a passable remark, for Barnaby, who's probably allergic to giving honest compliments, although he misses the honest meaning hidden within. To be fair, they're not perfectly in time, and he can't keep his gaze locked steadily with Barnaby's whilst navigating his feet smoothly. That's only worth a 'not bad'. So Kotetsu bites back his rising ire when it seems like he'll accept being led after all--

Only for his face to fall briefly when Barnaby yanks his hand to his shoulder, yanks his other hand somewhere else, why is this guy so grabby tonight?? Does he even care how sore his wrists are from balancing platefuls of food? It smacks of arrogance and ungratefulness that he didn't question him further, and his hand twitches away from the shoulder of Barnaby's suit as though it's white-hot to touch, ceasing his dance steps altogether in a momentary sulk. ]

You're joking, right? Like I'm gonna let the rookie lead. [ The rookie to whom effortless charm comes naturally, apparently, and with the way he'd been keeping up with Kotetsu's swift steps he can tell he isn't a rookie in formal etiquette. But his pride at having his role overturned still stings, his hand twists in Barnaby's grip to break the hold and rest on his hip again, although with a little more pull this time with his intent not to be forced into following. As far as he's concerned the only real dilemma here is getting the dance over with, with as little strain to his nerves as possible in front of what he's sure will soon be a growing audience. Maybe on the balcony he'd raise his voice, but for the moment, he mutters, almost sulkily with a glance down at their feet; ] We were fine before, so just hold on again.

[Even as his own irritation began to steadily build up, Barnaby did not attempt another revolt against Kotetsu's actions and kept his formerly grabby body parts right where they had been placed, but his feelings of displeasure were easily conveyed in the pointed look in his eyes. "Rookie". Had Kotetsu really used that as an excuse? He could recall in crystal clear details the lessons he'd taken in ballroom dancing, the almost endless number of charities and private events he'd participated in which granted him nothing but upstanding compliments on his technique, words about his absolute grace and sophistication and high regard that he had always been suspected to uphold when it came to his public image. Perhaps it was exactly why he was being more stubborn about the whole thing than usual. Barnaby was still very much used to giving off a certain aura in the public eye, a certain air of prestige that was meant to hold the attention of everyone around him. This was his moment, he would run it... but apparently not when Kotetsu was intent on making him feel like a "rookie", like some child. As if he didn't know what he was doing. He could almost scoff.]

I assure you that in this situation I happen to have more experience than you do. [And just to emphasize his point, the steady flow of critique began even as he made no other continued efforts to fight Kotetsu's position.]

Straighten your posture more. You're dragging your feet a bit as well. Also you're not leading, you're slightly pulling. And don't look down. It's unsightly and you lose track of the steps faster that way. [Of course everything had been genuine complaints that he'd noticed since they had started but nothing that actually bothered him. Not much. No, this was his own subtle (if you could even call it such a thing, and Barnaby's critiques and complaints were never really subtle when it came to his partner, or at least before they hadn't been) way of being as manipulative as possible. Because if he continued to push at the other's buttons then something was bound to snap and he'd give up, then Barnaby could smoothly take the reigns and this whole thing would be finished his way like it was meant to be, and not only would this save them face from their onlookers but both of their egos would remain completely intact (of course this was not actually true but it was a good enough thought to have). Really, there was no problem with him leading, rookie or not.]

[ If you're not taking that scoff, sir, then he will, with an unrestrained snort to brush off that minor detail. Who cares about dancing experience? He's got more life experience, and as long as they both know the basics, shouldn't the older guy lead? Not that this has ever been a problem for him before-- the only lady to accept his offer of a dance was happy to follow his perhaps less ballroom than swing-appropriate sense of time, giggled if he fumbled with his feet, almost led him with her words and her touch if he started making excuses about how this really wasn't his kind of thing and she oughtta find a guy who can dance.

Naturally he can't expect the same breaks from his partner now, but at the very least his displeasure is an insult to his own faith in his skills. He isn't an expert by any means, not the way he assumes Barnaby sees himself, but he knows the basics, is so damn intimate with the basics he once practised over and over to be nothing short of decent on that special day that repeating the pattern with such a sense of disharmony in his partner and the surroundings only makes his temper flare. So at the nitpicking orders he grimaces, jerks his chin up with the energy behind a newly-straightened posture to look down his nose at Barnaby, dropping his hands to his sides. For the moment, physically, he doesn't want to have anything more to do with this. ]

Wha-- If you weren't stopping every two seconds I wouldn't be doing any of that stuff! [ -He isn't exactly going to defend each individual point because hell, he's right, but trying to lead Barnaby is like dancing with a store mannequin. What can he do if the resistance is enough to drag on his hands that it's become awkward pulling, that he has to visually pinpoint what Barnaby's doing with his feet so he doesn't unexpectedly trip? Running through these thoughts with a scowl, it-- it feels just like when they first paired up. The arguments are almost similar. But he has to keep trying. That vivid lack of teamwork between the two still fresh in his mind is what stops him snapping his locked gaze away from Barnaby's, immediately at least, his voice lower when he speaks again; after all, they've probably got at least a few onlookers after having raised the volume. ] Can't just stand there and expect dancing to happen just 'cause you're not leading. C'mon, let's give this another shot.

[That building irritation flares as soon as Kotetsu stops and his eyes narrow, a deep frown spread over his face. He no longer cares for the onlookers observing them, the whispered and hushed voices that now seem to be an accompaniment of the music still echoing through the room; he's not even aware of the music anymore, or that bothersome woman that had started this whole argument. All that matters is that Kotetsu is being an annoyance and it needs to stop.]

I wouldn't be stopping if you didn't insist on making this more of an issue than it should be. You--

[His words come to an abrupt halt. That's when he realizes it. He's angry. Kotetsu is frustrated, questionably angry as well, but Barnaby? Barnaby is angry, and he's not sure why he's angry. Because of some woman's pawing? An unpleasant experience, certainly. Her persistence at following him? A nuisance at most. Kotetsu's clumsiness that really is just a staple of his personality by this point, that makes him who he is no matter how slouched his back is, how awkward his steps are, how inadvertently pushy he can be? He's doing the best he can, much better than what Barnaby had thought to come across when he'd sought out his partner for help. --that's right, he'd asked for this. Of course, not so much asked as just about told but, Kotetsu had no need to agree with this. He could simply stop and walk away, continue his enjoyment in the company of finger food and allow Barnaby to make an utter fool of himself for making such a huge fuss over these little things he'd had to face tonight that were nothing at all.

All of this of course leads only to one conclusion. Barnaby is being a jerk, and he needs to stop being a jerk, so with a heavy sigh and a quick adjustment of his glasses he stands with his feet evenly spaced apart, left hand placed smoothly on Kotetsu's shoulder and right hand suspended in the air, palm upward in acceptance. Barnaby stands there, nods, and waits. The sudden composure written on his face is more of a deterrent from those quiet voices surrounding them but underneath it, there is an unspoken apology, an explanation and understanding that's much deeper than the brief words he offers. That this is his fault. He caused this, not you.]

I apologize for my behavior. Please, continue.

[Regent's granddaughter or not, Re-l always feels uncomfortable in formal wear.

When she was younger, she used to wear skirts. She was often complimented on them, too, and she didn't mind their feel or wear. But as she grew older and as her responsibilities changed. It became clearer to her that her role in society was to be impressive, to be the outstanding citizen she was, and to make a grand show of her birthright and her standing. She despised the idea. The very few formal events she attended back home were close to torture. She could look and act the part, but everyone's eyes were on her and she hated it.

Here, things have changed, but not by much. She still dresses well to make a good impression and though there is much less to be expected from her, she still doesn't like to parade around in dresses or formal wear. One thing that remains, though, is her love of dancing, no matter how simple or foolish. It's one of the few joys she indulges in and only every now and again.

Her usual friends aren't here but Kotetsu is. He'll do. Maybe it'll even distract him, as he looks fairly out of place as well.

Dressed in a dark blue dress to match her eyes, Re-l goes to his side and touches his arm.]

Not really enjoying yourself, are you?

[ It doesn't take a genius to notice the scattered onlookers' eyes drawing to Re-l whenever she pauses to converse with another guest, turns to accept a drink from one of the waiters milling about. Except that Kotetsu is one of those snatching glances now and then, and with the speed of her turning back towards the centre of the room, he certainly isn't the only one who has to actually remind himself to change drink-holding hands before pretending to check his watch. Another guy's already fallen prey to that trap, he's noticed, leaving the event ashamed and clutching a jacket dripping with champagne-- it's only made him redouble his efforts not to do the same.

Other than exchange the brief conversation with other wandering guests on the choice of music the orchestra's got tonight or when do they think they'll uncover the buffet, he can't think of anything better to do. It feels like he should be on guard duty or have his boss here, or-- something. Anything to alleviate his boredom. Even work or an unexpected mission would spice things up a little. Sliding his phone out his pocket, he takes a sip from his wineglass as he unlocks it- and nearly inhales the drink instead upon Re-l's touch and her voice so near to him, pausing to mentally run through the physical actions involved in safely swallowing liquid without choking all over a well-dressed lady. He turns to face her, immediately putting the phone away again-- she's far more attention-commanding than some imaginary missed calls. ]

No-- yeah, I am! Loving the, uh- [ Giving a vague wave of his free hand towards the orchestra, currently on standby; his point is defeated before he even made it. The defeated slump is more in his tone of voice than his actual posture. ] ...That obvious, huh? Sorry.

[She takes his excuses in stride, actually expecting them. She'd be making things up for herself if she could, but she knows it's fairly obvious that she's as bored as he is. The people are all the same; the surroundings are just as they are. She can take them or leave them. She gives him a slightly indulgent smile and makes sure he's not going to spit out what's rest of his drink in surprise before she speaks.]

It's all right. I feel the same way.

[It's all just boring. She shrugs but holds out her hand.]

A little break from the monotonous. Dance with me.

[Drunkenness was an awkward thing. While Barnaby wasn't normally the type to drink himself to any sort of oblivion, that was just something about his normally-infuriating partner that had them cracking open a couple of beers while Dragon Kid and the mayor's son slept peacefully down the hall. It was a good thing Barnaby's apartment was fairly noise-resistant, otherwise they'd probably upset the youngest hero.

Not that it really mattered. Actually, not much mattered except trying to properly stand up. For some reason, Barnaby just really, really wanted to share his hobby with Kotetsu. Sure, he had told the interviewer that the hobby of listening to classical music or opera was best when, you know, alone, but his partner had gone and gotten himself hurt for his sake. And sure, he was still healing, but it was okay to share at least something.

Finishing off his most recent can, Barnaby did his best to set it next to his laptop while he pulled himself to his feet.]

Ol-- Old man... You like music, right?

[He gestured to his stereo system.]

[ Being able to let himself go like this was relaxing. Not because the gradually healing burn had caused him any real discomfort lately and the alcohol distracted from the lingering pain; not entirely, at least. But kicking back in the comfiest chair in his partner's place and airing the bandages, talking freely, dropping the guard he'd been holding around the kids after the screen had accidentally been switched on earlier... It just felt good.

The empty cans stacked up at the foot of the chair were testimony to just how laid-back he was letting himself be, or-- it's more likely he hadn't realised how much he was drinking, from the slight haze and too-quick way things were happening, words and memories were spilling out of his mouth. Simply watching Barnaby practically leap to his feet with grace (coming from the viewpoint of someone who hasn't left his chair for over an hour) nearly made his head spin, although at that question, he practically snorted, tipping his head back as though to let out a laugh that never came. ]

Who doesn't? Music's the-- [ -Rhythm to his life? Something like that. But with that gesture he felt compelled to lean forward to peer in that direction, take in the sight of the stereo set and... wow, it's streamlined and pretty shiny-looking compared to his own at home. He whistled appreciatively, swilling the contents of the beercan in hand. ] Sure looks like you do, Bunny! That all built-in?

This... [Once up, Barnaby placed a hand gingerly on the side of the device. Just the standing part alone had been a challenge, so he was certain he had reached some sort of victory by the mere fact that he wasn't teetering over where he stood. Well, the longer he was up, the easier it seemed. He hadn't quite reached a state of pure, intoxicated hopelessness, even if he was well on his way to that point. But this? This was fine.

And showing off his stereo? Even better.] A present, from Mr. Maverick.

[Probably one of the best ones he had gotten, although it was more of a mixture of presents. A celebratory welcome-to-your-first-apartment gift, a congratulations for finishing high school, even a growing-up sort of gift for leaving the orphanage. Either way, Maverick had spent some lavish amount of money on it, and it fit quite nicely. Barnaby pressed the on switch, a gentle waltz filling the room.

He smiled at Kotetsu, patting the device again.] Sometimes I just sit there and listen to music for hours. It's... It's hard, thinking about Ouro... Ouro...

[Ouroboros, although Barnaby's mind was already drifting past that.]

Oh, I know this song. I like this song. I think 's Chopin.

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meme #004 | slow-dancing ( think outside the boxstep )

Kotetsu T. Kaburagi | Tiger & Bunny

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