Someone tapped her shoulder and she startled and turned finding Lance grinning down at her, his face flushed with good cheer, the blue Altean crescents emanating a faint glow. She frowned, wondering if he’d gotten into Coran’s numvil again. His supposed dislike of the stuff didn’t stop him from imbibing it.
Undaunted by her frown, his smile broadened. “Hey, stargazer, care to join the party?”
“The party doesn’t need me. It’s got you,” she said wryly.
He gusted out a long-long suffering sigh. “Just doing my part for the Coalition. And yours, wallflower.”
“You’re the social butterfly. I’m a wallflower, over here blooming in my native habitat.”
Lance laid his hands on her upper arms, turning her toward him, his feet moving to the music’s slow tempo. “Dance with me, Paloma.”
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