Moonshine
Deryn Sharp was a lady, in all senses of the word, but with the New York lights around her, her favorite man on her arm, and a shot (or three) of the liquor they had somehow managed to find, she was ready to have a but more fun with her stuffy prince of a husband.
"It's barking America, your princliness! You don't feel even a little excited?" She asked. Alek kept up the stuffy Austrian act very well, though he'd had as much to drink as she. Deryn supposed it was the way they bred all royals that made them all so stuffy. Some sort of title meant a stiff upper lip.
"No," he said, "and I remeber you being a little less, ahem, excited when we were here the last time." He straightened his jacket and raised a cool, collected eyebrow.
Deryn pouted, "We were in the middle of a barking war and I was still Dylan, remember? There are the roaring 20s, Alek, and you're a commoner now. Have a little fun!"
She grabbed her prince's hand without a second thought and led him to the dance floor of the underground club. His arms slipped easily around her. They swayed to the beat of a lowly thrumming song while the Clanker timepiece on the wall chimed midnight.
"We really should be heading back to the hotel. Bovril has been cooped up all day." Alek tried again in vain. Deryn silenced him with a kiss, "For once your Serene Highness, be a little fun and let the moonshine sink in."
He didn't protest anymore.
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