It wasn't much, but he promised her he would give her a dance. Just one. Gregor was a horrible dancer, and it was silly that he would even consider offering to have a dance with anyone, except Emmeryn. After his confession, he had to at least give her one dance. He wore the suit that he wore the day of his brother's wedding, a simple black tuxedo. He approached Emmeryn, smiling all the while. "May Gregor have dance?" he asked, offering a hand for her to take.
She wasn’t one to fidget. She wasn’t one to fidget, yet there she stood, fighting against fidgeting but fidgeting nonetheless. She was supposed to carry herself royally, elegantly, as if nothing could faze her, but no. Emmeryn wrapped her hands in the sheer fabric of her wrap, looking up at the sky anxiously.
Lon’qu knew that she was saving a dance for Gregor, right? Yes, he knew, she reassured herself, he knew and she was certain he was okay with it. With a sigh, she looked back and out around her. Her gaze alighted upon the familiar silhouette of Gregor, and she broke out into a smile.
“Of… course… you may…” she replied, setting her hand in his. Hopefully, this wouldn’t go too wrong. How could it?
…She didn’t want to think about it.
