They stood outside her flat, awkward despite the easy conversation they'd made most of the way home.
"Did you enjoy yourself," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning against the doorframe.
"Yeah, did you?" she said, unable to get her key in the lock. She hadn't drunk so much in a very long time.
"Here," he said, placing his left hand over her right to steady it as she slipped the key into the lock. Unconsciously she looked at his hand to see if perhaps he had the Rambaldi tattoo on his hand.
He didn't, of course. What nonsense.
She let him follow her into the apartment, but he stood at the door, hesitant. "I should probably be going."
She turned from where she was unlacing her shoe and looked at him. "Oh." Her feet ached. She hadn't worn heels in a long time, either. They held her feet much differently than her pointe shoes.
"Well…" he nodded at her.
"Um, I hope you can make it to the opening," she said, finally able to undo the knot in her left shoe.
"I'll try," he nodded again. He closed the door behind him and strode over to her. He stood in front of her and held her elbow to steady her as she struggled with the knot on her other shoe.
"Thanks," she said tersely, straightening up. He was standing closer to her than she would've liked. She could smell his cologne lightly.
"I'm sure you'll be great," he said confidently, still holding her elbow. His fingers were very warm against her skin. "They're very happy to have you with them for the season."
"Right," she whispered, and he leaned towards her, into the space between her head and her shoulder, like he might hug her, but then he stopped. "I like your perfume."
"It was a gift," she said, "You should be going."