"Step, two, three, four." And repeat and repeat and repeat again. Two pairs of feet swept across the floor with practiced grace or, one, at least was graceful; the other's was not so much. It was only with repetition, it seemed that the second continued to move and there was still a stumble here and there, once causing the leader to his in pain. "Watch your step."

But he was growing impatient with following, itching to lead, to show he knew what he was doing. "I know what I am doing. I want to lead."

"No."

"Why?" Connor stopped abruptly.

Haytham glared up at his son, brows furrowed. "Because you have the grace of a drunken elephant and the fluidity of a rock! If you mean to infiltrate the ball you will have to do better than that."

"It is because you will not let me lead." Argued Connor."

His father would hear none of it." If you cannot follow then you could never hope to lead."

"Just let me try."

"No."

"But I am taller and larger than you and it would make more sense."

"No."

"Haytham." Connor stepped forward, but Haytham was already turning away. Taking Haytham's hand as he had taken his earlier, he pulled his father close, placed his hand on his hip and pointedly looked down at him.

"What are y-" Again, Connor stepped forward, and without thinking Haytham stepped back.

"I will lead." There was such sternness in Connor's tone that Haytham finally relented, a sigh passing his lips as his hand positioned itself around Connor's shoulder. They moved awkwardly at first, but soon fell into a rhythm. "You smell like roses." Commented Connor as he inhaled deeply.

Scrunching his nose in displeasure, Haytham replied, "And you smell like dirt and dung."

Connor made a sound that might have been a chuckle. "It was meant to be a compliment."

"And still you smell of dirt and dung."

"Thanks." He mumbled, and fell into silence as they danced, more smoothly now than before. Connor began to hum a gentle tune to himself, mimicking something he had heard the people at homestead sing many times before.

As the song reached its conclusion, Connor stared hard at Haytham, and the man pieced together his intentions immediately. "Oh no," Connor smirked, "Don't you dare, I'm warning y-" Haytham was cut short as Connor's lips met his just as he was dipped deep toward the ground, supported mostly by Connor's strength until at last Connor pulled back, breaths mingling for only a moment longer. Then the younger righted them, a smug look upon his face as Hyatham smoothed imaginary wrinkles from his top.

"So?" Asked Connor, expectantly.

"'So', what? Were you expecting something?"

With a sigh, Connor elaborated. "How did I do?"

Haytham cocked a brow, a bit surprised that Connor seemed to be searching for his approval. He smiled.

"I suppose you are better at leading than I gave you credit for. You have been promoted to the ranks of a rabid raccoon."