"I used to know how to dance," Mark commented, his voice breaking through the silence of the loft. He and Benny were the only two there, otherwise he wouldn't have said it— had Roger or any of the others been home, they would have seized on the comment and probably mocked him mercilessly for it, but with Benny the chances of that were slightly lower. He didn't turn to look, keeping his eyes on the film he was cutting, but somehow he got the impression that Benny had turned to stare at him incredulously.
"Mark," Benny said after a long moment of silence, "I've seen you trying to dance. You can't."
Mark grinned over his shoulder at Benny. "No, really. I used to be able to tango. I don't know if I still could, it's been so long since I had to..." He shrugged and turned back to the film, frowning at it a little as he continued, "I mean, I'm sure it's kind of pathetic compared to you, Mr. Dance Minor, but..."
"When did you learn how to tango?"
"When I was in high school. Or maybe it was in junior high. My mom made me go and..." He trailed off, his face reddening a little. "Never mind. My point is that I can."
"And you felt the need to mention this because...?"
"Because you always ask Maureen to dance with you and not me. I don't think you give me enough credit."
"Mark, that's because you can't dance."
"I can tango."
"I don't believe you."
Mark shrugged. "I promise you I can."
"Prove it."
Mark frowned and glanced over his shoulder at Benny. "What?"
Benny stepped forward, holding out his hand to Mark. "Prove it. Come on."
"I don't know, Benny, I —"
"What? You know you can't say things like that and not prove it." He arched an eyebrow challengingly, and after a moment Mark sighed and took his hand. "Fine. But you should know that Maureen's still better than me."
"Screw Maureen."
Mark's lips quirked into a bemused smile. "You do," he said, and Benny only shrugged in answer.
"Yeah, well, so do you, so I think we're even on that. Now come on, Cohen, you said you knew how to tango-- prove it."
Mark shifted his hand in Benny's and reached out to grasp his other hand. "Are you going to let me lead?"
"As long as you don't run me into anything."
Simply rolling his eyes, Mark glanced down at his feet momentarily as he led Benny through the first few steps of the tango. He looked up at Benny after a second, slowly returning his smile and, growing more confident, began to move just a little faster, with a little more grace and certainty. The path of their dance traced invisible patterns on the bare floor of the loft, delicate shapes that could never be retraced, would never be exactly duplicated.