The First Dance

~ Alice's POV ~
I still don't know how the girls dragged me out to the dirtiest, most unsanitary club in the East End. I glanced out on the dance floor, and easily spotted my friends. Sharon was slow dancing with this dapper-looking guy with cropped brown hair and what seemed to be a nervous twitch. He kept readjusting his glasses, but she was smiling like a kid on Christmas morning, so apparently he was okay.
Echo was sitting at the bar, drinking a coke through a spiralling straw. Some random weirdo came up, and obviously got to close, because she elbowed him on the top of the head, and, still slurping away at her drink, walked over only to plop herself down at our table, two seats away from me.
"Where's Ada gone?" I asked.
My only response was a pointed finger, which revealed that Ada has obviously found someone she saw as worthy, because she was waving goodbye to a tall man with different coloured eyes, as they both walked out of the girls' bathroom together; her mating-ground of choice. But only if they're special.
"What's his name?" I didn't need to ask if she knew, for Echo had this weird affinity for knowing...things.
"Vincent..." Her face scrunched up for a second, and she took another long sip of coke. "Nightray. Brother of Gilbert, that boy in our class."
"Ah, so he's a relation of the Sprout-Head, eh?" I grinned.
"If you mean Gilbert Nightray, then yes, he is." At that she went off to get another drink, and she disappeared from sight.
So Ada, sister of Oz Bezarius; the boy who was whom Gilbert had long since had in mind, was going after said Nightray's brother. Why did I find this hilarious? I don't know, only that I did. I saw Sharon coming my way, so I expertly hid my laughter and stuffed a beef-jerky stick into my mouth.
"Enjoying your attendance prize?" Sharon asked, sitting down in Echo's now abandoned spot. She glared at the seat, moving one to her right, so that our side mushed and she managed to kick me twice.
"Oh, yeah! The taste of blackmail is so meaty it hurts." I wore an expression, which was an easy cross between a scowl and a smirk. I had long since invented it and so dubbed it George. I don't think Sharon liked George, but she obviously knew better than to question him. Classic George.
"Aw. Come one, Alice-chan! At least try to enjoy it!" Sharon whined, standing and pulling me out to the dance floor.
We danced together, with varying levels of enthusiasm for about five minutes before I felt someone grab my ass. I whirled around, and punched the guy, but I hit the back of the wrong guy. The man I had punched was tall, with messy-ish white hair and a loose-fitting purple jacket that brushed his feet. While the man that had made a grab was choking under the white-haired guy's grip.
"You gonna try that again?" The one in purple said, no, snarled, at the man.
"N-no. Ack-I ah-W-Won't-" was all the other man could splutter out before the white-haired one dropped him and kicked him in the ribs. The man cursed and writhed in pain. I suddenly felt a wave of affection for the man clad in purple. He caught my eye, and a large grin danced across his face.
"What's your name, Little Miss?" He said, in a sweetly alluring voice. That kind of perfection just had to have been practiced in the mirror.
"I'm Alice Baskerville." I replied, the noble's daughter in me flaring up like wild fire. "And to whom do I owe my thanks?"
His response where equally eccentric and outdated. "I am but a humble servant, my Lady. A man of my stature has no name whilst in the presence of thou." I raised an eyebrow, and tapped my foot twice. "But you can just call me Break."
"That's better." I said as he offered his hand. I took it and, forgetting the small circle of eyes we had attracted, danced with the tall stranger. He twirled me and caught me when I feigned a fall, only to spin me fast again into another one and a half pace waltz, only to spin out of it again with spontaneous tango moves, then into it again. Before I knew it, we were dancing the ancient version of the Vietnamese Waltz to Ke$ha and Pink, but I didn't care about how inappropriate the music was to the dance.
I only cared about how nice it felt to be pressed up against someone, feeling the slight tension in his muscles as he switched from one foot to another.

~ Break's POV ~
Alice was a magnificent dancer. All hips and twisting waists, she was a spectacle to watch, but enchanting to behold.
I had so far tested her with infusing the Tango and the 90's slow dance with the 1800's Vietnamese Waltz, only to find myself stumped on just how many dances this tiny girl could keep up with. I suddenly decided to be cruel, and spun her away from me at 10km an hour time, and pulled her back to me hard, only to stop instead of continuing as she expected.
I saw the look of hurt on her face, but if was gone almost before it had appeared. She was suddenly angry, but that too, vanished when I pressed my lips softly to her forehead. Flabbergasted, she hardly noticed as I placed the long silver chain around her neck. The small charm hung heavily, but just for good measure, I let it drop down beneath her dress, just below her collar bone.
"Farewell, my Lady, lest we shall meet again." I whispered, and turned, leaving the pretty brunette stunned and alone on the dance floor. Just as my heart began yearning to return and ask her for another dance, she fell out of her daze, and one hand absently lifted to grip the chain, and she smiled.
She smiled, and whispered to little words that affected me down in the very depths of my black past-ridden soul. Two words that years ago, would have saved me if uttered by one such as her, if said in my name.
"Thank you."