#azirafuck

Of course it's the gavotte, but he leads you so skillfully it hardly matters; you are alone within the stacks, tripping between drifts of Donnes & towers of Trollopes. It's giddying. You barely realize he's spoken until he repeats himself, leaning closer with his soft curls & the joint of his half-moon glasses & you blush. To your genuinely shocked protestations he merely smiles, brushing a strand of your hair away from your heated cheek: "While the demon's away the angel will play, my dear..."