She should not have been there that night, a sea away from home with a villain on the run, but she was there anyway. All she knew was that the dance floor was intoxicating, and she had not danced, truly, for more than half her life. The ballroom was a nice blend of old and new fashions - a chandelier with electric lights that dimmed on command. A deejay with his equipment on the sparkling golden dancefloor, wearing a blue bow tie with his black suit. The whole place was lively and friendly and warm and loud and all those other things her life was not. People everywhere. Movement. Sound. The smell of cocktails and ginger ale and sweat.
That red dress she bought at Sector Six to seduce the Don, the strapless velvet one - she'd only worn that once.It felt good to have it back on; it carried the sense of senseless adventure still.
He should not have been there that night either, a continent away from his lab with his son on the run, but he was there anyway, wearing a red blazer that, freakishly, matched the colour of her dress. As she walzed over to him through the crowd, eyes full of amusement and only a little bit of wariness, she realised someone with delicate fingers had plaited his long ponytail, and that only made her burst into giggles.
He smiled a little too, more with embarrassment. Caught. Now she'll never respect him again. Not that she ever did.
"Care to dance?" She offered first, knowing well that true ladies were never meant to make the first move. But tonight - just for tonight - Aerith was no lady.
"Only if I lead." He answered, thinking of that old song that sang something about the gracelessness of scientists. But tonight - just for her - Hojo was no scientist.