Chorophobia - And So They Dance

He had only seen her in conservative browns, blacks, and greys up until that night. In her white and shear teal formal skirt she simmered like a radiant star above an ocean of dark fabrics and prim cut suits.

He did not expect to find her here at this formal banquet, but he should have known that the Collective would have an interest in the higher echelons of society just as much as They. Other recruiters most likely peppered crowd, trying their best to sway wealthy patrons over to their side. No doubt the smiling young man Anna danced with now was one of their targets.

Walton rose and politely excused himself from the table he joined earlier that evening. His steps were slow and careful as he snaked his way past enthusiastic crowds and headed towards his unwitting prey.

A new song had just begun and with it another chance for Anna to convince the young money to come back to her table. But when the man released her for an independent spin, it was Walton's hand that softly caught her around her waist and held her gently but firmly before him.

He could feel her tense under his touch like a startled dove before whirling around to face the one who stole her. Expressions of mistrust, anger and fear rapidly replaced her initial jovial shock, but she quickly made to hide those emotions away.

Instead, she let her hands do the talking. Sharp nails dug into his shoulder in warning as Walton glared the younger man down into wary submission, and claimed her for this dance.

When he was certain that they would be left alone, Walton gently eased the reluctant one back into step with the rest of the dancing crowd. Their movements were slow but purposeful, each highly aware of the other's presence and location of their hands and hips throughout the dance. So far their courting steps were civil, and their hands remained dutifully upon waist, shoulder, and palm, but, like a bowl of boiling water threatening to spill over, the man and woman tempted a promise of violence each time they stepped back and forth and side to side together.

Walton admitted that the woman was the superior dancer, and let her twist around him like a feathered dandelion seed upon the wind. Every time she had the chance to drift off, however, he was there to catch and draw her back to him, and she would have to wait to try again.

It was a game they began to play, one that became more sly and frequent as the dance wore on. Each tested the other, measured their worth and found them equal if not more.

But their game was drawing to an end and both found the other hesitant to return to the world. Their dark eyes met and spoke of a temporary truce: one that promised no harm to befall the other that night. Whether it was to be upheld was uncertain.

The music swelled and sweetly trumpeted the last notes of its swan song into the air and both dancers prepared for what was to come.

Walton steps forward and Anna twists away, but lets herself return to rest her hand gingerly upon his own. His grip upon her hand, in turn, tightens, but the force is not enough to bring her harm: it merely exists to hold her still.

Slowly, it relents. Fingertips brush down her arm and he presses forward to unbalance her. With a gasp her hands wrap around his shoulders while his own gather upon the middle and small of her back. She arches, he leans down, and for a moment they are suspended close together until the last note fades.

Applause for the musicians breaks them out of their reverie. Shaken, they untangle themselves and drift apart until another day.