It's humble and rustic, within the confines of their own room and without prying eyes to interrupt this moment. Armin's head is resting on Bertholdt's chest, hindered from nuzzling into his neck by the sheer height difference between the two lads, but there is a certain added intimacy in being so close to the heart of the man he loves, and as such, he doesn't mind. Bertholdt has one arm wrapped around Armin's torso for support, the other intertwined with Armin's as he leads the dance, getting considerably more skilled each time they share it. He's no longer quite as strong as he used to be in better days, but he elects to ignore the effects of his deteriorating body in favour of the moment.
Bertholdt briefly considers how much a gramophone playing in the background would add to the mood, but he appreciates the soft, comfortable silence that reigns between the two of them regardless. There are not many people he feels this at ease around without exchanging any words, without the need to discuss every situation they find themselves in, to just live in the moment and nowhere else. Maybe the deal was sealed when they found solace in one another during those countless long afternoons they used to spend in the library, sometimes not speaking to each other for over an hour, yet neither of the boys ever felt like the situation was awkward or like they needed to speak up. Things had been good from the start.
His only regret is that they hadn't grown this close a little sooner before his time would run out.