No offense to her newly-assigned partner, but he was kind of boring and was going to take a lot of time and effort to 'get used to'. Problem was, it had been two weeks, which was a long enough time to know that this partnership plan, cooked up by the agency, was probably not going to work out.

It was raining outside, but she didn't mind that much. The gentle breeze that wafted in through the window was pleasantly fragrant with the scent of water, and it helped ease the throbbing tension in lower half of the back of her mind. Milla set one hand over her eyes, its counterpart currently rubbing the back of her head as she laid sprawled on her dormitory bed. Sundays were the days of rest, thankfully. She needed it.

Why the partnership? What was it the agency saw with pairing up the two of them – her, a graceful and cheery levitator, he a calm marksman of few words? The man had no rhythm, neither in his mind or in his movements. He was so...so stiff, and lanky, and awkward, and just – everything that was her polar opposite. The few things they shared would be considered 'cheating', because being psychic wasn't really a shared trait when you both worked for a secret psychic agency.

Milla rolled onto her side, lowering her hand to the back of her neck and cradling her head in the crook of her arm. Nnngh. Why did the agency think it was a good idea to pair her with somebody who was just her complete opposite? She got that it was supposed to be working on the 'opposites attract' line of thinking, but getting along wasn't the hard part – the two of them were fine enough as themselves interacting with the other. It was the part of 'melding into one unit' that wasn't really working.

His mind was dreary, rigid, and all sorts of uncomfortable. It was an imagined rubix cube suspended in space and completely locked. The goal was to trust the partner, but he wasn't allowing that to happen. The six faces remained sealed, the air in and of itself choking in her lungs and squeezing her with claustrophobia. It was awful.

And if that was the case, what did he think of her mind? She remembered him standing there on the dance floor, frown deeply etched into his jaw, his eyes wide with unease and limbs jittering with anxiety. It wasn't like she could change her mentalscape, that was just the way it was. But if he was trying to push her out in his mind and found himself stricken with terror in hers, was there really any point in trying to get this to work?

But...giving up...

Milla opened her eyes, sliding her hand over her chin. Giving up was...such an embarrassment. The agency had put a lot of faith in attempting to partner up the two of them, and she had worked damn hard to get to this point in her mental training – in her life too, to be honest, even though she wasn't aware she'd been preparing for it. So really, giving up was not an option. It was just that getting him to cooperate was not going to be easy. She would once again have to be the extroverted one, and extend a hand to him to perhaps unhinge the inner workings of his mind.

The question, though, was how.

Outside, the rain continued to fall in its steady, gentle beat. The drops hit the ground in a rapid, blurred noise, itself a quiet rush on the grass and concrete. The gutters gurgled with the currents they carried, dropping as they fell in loud splats to join their smaller brethren on the ground. Then there was the slow but successive plink as dollops formed off the overhand and dropped to the window ledge.

It was a consistent ensemble of the same instrument, just morphed to different pitches and beats. Though broken apart from their greater mass, they still would end up together in the end. They provided their audience a simple symphony of their sounds, at once relaxing and yet energizing.

After a few moments, Milla realized she was tapping her finger along to the beat of the window drops. She then smiled and relaxed further into her arm, curling her legs as she opted that now would be the ideal time for a nap.

...Wait.

A rhythm. A beat. One that didn't come from anything but pure nature. There was no way to deny that it existed, and it couldn't be called 'good' or 'bad', just that it subsisted and that it was...

In other words, he couldn't call it 'tacky' or claim it was offensive to his ears. Milla grinned as the thought morphed into a tangible idea, and within moments, the nap was discarded in favor of something a bit more active.

Knock knock. Knock-knock-knock.

Milla set herself a good foot away from the door after she knocked, rocking back and forth on her feet as she heard the man in the room shuffle around. A few seconds passed before he cleared his throat and called out: "Yes?"

She smiled, shaking her head. Why did he have to be so cautious about opening the door? Honestly, he behaved like a frightened woodland animal half the time. "It's me, Sasha."

More seconds went by before the door jostled open, her would-be partner sliding his eye to the crack. "Frau Vodello?"

Exaggerating her smile, Milla nodded. "Hello darling – may I come in?"

He was still uneasy about the terms of endearment she used on him (words she used on everyone), but there was really no reason to keep her out, this she knew. Sasha pulled the door open, allowing Milla to glide in. His room was set up perfectly in accordance to her memory of it – the sparse furniture at perfect angles, but with enough mess to remind her that no matter how meticulous his mentalscape was, her would-be partner was, in fact, a guy. Books, papers, food wrappers (ugh, clean those up), and clothes were scattered about the small space, but such things didn't bother her. With as much time as she had spent looking after children, this kind of a mess was so not a problem.

"Is there...a reason you are here...?" Sasha ran a finger down the part of his hair, his eyes flickering back and forth from the mess of the room to the woman in front of him.

"Well, yes, of course there is, I don't just -" come around for spontaneous visits because I feel a little weird around you okay. It was a good thing she had stopped speaking before finishing the sentence with one possible ending. "- drop by unannounced for no reason" Yes. Good save.

The falling rain outside filled in the gap of silence that came between them. Milla pulled her smile a bit higher, her stomach twinging with slight anxiety. If he refused to cooperate with her idea, she was going to be feeling like quite the fool.

"Sasha, you know that...we haven't been mentally syncing up very well."

His gaze instantly shot to the wall, his lips tightening. "I...suppose that is one way to put it."

"But the agency has put a lot of faith in us," Milla continued, raising her pointer finger while slowly stepping around him and towards the window. "They see something we don't, you know?"

"They merely see us as complements," he offered, remaining stiff in his pose while following her movements with his eyes. "But they failed to grasp that we are two separate people."

"I have a proposition for you, Sasha." Milla stopped, her legs crossed while balancing on her toes. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Darling, please, it's right there." She closed her eyes and tapped out the beat of the window ledge's rain drops on her extended finger. Then the motion transferred to her other hand, before snaking its way down to her back foot. The rhythms playing out, Milla opened her eyes and swung her hand to Sasha, inviting him to take it with a wiggle of her fingers.

He raised an eyebrow at her, hesitantly raising his own hand but curling in his fingers at the last moment. "What is this about, Frau Vodello?" he asked, his tone flat but cautious.

"We aren't in sync, and we need to be if we're going to be working together." Milla prodded her hand at him again. "The psychic partnership is more than being co-workers, it means mixing together as one mind but with the strength of two behind it." Her fake smile fell, giving way to a warm grin, which she used to coax his hand into hers. "We need to find a common time, darling, and today the rain will be our metronome."

Sasha's grasp on her hand was light at best, but he allowed her to extend and sway his arm. It was a slow swish to one side, an equally timed swish to the other, echoing the timing of the rapid beats of rain outside that slammed into the concrete. They repeated the swing with three more pairs before Milla took a step forward.

Surprised by the action, Sasha's arm tensed, but his would-be partner froze as well, peering tightly into his eyes. "Focus on the rhythm."

"But there isn't -"

"There's always a rhythm, everywhere around you." Milla raised her other arm, once again coaxing Sasha to take it. The two were now in the clunkiest, most childish pose; a good two feet between them with their arms forming a tense bridge. "Don't think about the obvious drops, think about the ones that are hidden in plain sight."

"Sound and sight are different, Frau Vodello..."

She rolled her eyes, picking up on the beat of the window drips, and started to gently sway back and forth on her feet, firmly kicking her heel to the ground in time to every drop. Sasha stared at her in bewilderment, probably also confused as to why he was still allowing his hands to touch hers, but steadfastly observed her movements. His eyes followed back and forth before he finally closed them and listened, brow twitching at every other drop from the window.

His feet began to match them.

Slowly, yes, and with a slight hesitation in his beginning steps, but all things considered, he was mimicking her steps in time to the drips. She noticed the way his legs seemed to refuse the fluid movement, trying their hardest to fight the unnatural motions and return instead to their stuttering ways. His knees provided a hitch to the plan, creating an ever-so-slight tension each time he went to tap his heel on the ground.

But all issues aside, they were in unison, if just off by a millisecond or two.

Without warning, Milla waltzed to the right, sweeping Sasha along with her as he stumbled, nearly toppling to the ground. Had he weighed more he might've dragged her along with, but she was able to counter his fall with another exaggerated dip, pulling him to his feet and lurching him forward. He had to jump to keep up with her turns and sways, face etched with panic as he did his best to keep up while his mind scrambled to find their metronome in the meantime.

It took a bit long, but eventually he came up with the proper backdrop – the water rushing in the gutters – and set his next task on copying Milla's movements. She laughed as his body refused to dip as far and sweep as low, and soon she decided to set the two back to the window drop sways.

"But -"

"Many dances have a lead and a follow." She raised her right arm while releasing her left from his hand, gently setting it on the back of his neck. Goosebumps instantly pricked on his skin while his eyes widened and cheeks flushed (though as quickly as that appeared, it vanished). "Traditionally it's the role of the male to lead." She closed the wide gap between them with a smooth step forward, nudging her head at his hand. Either he received the mental transmission or he just figured it out, as Sasha settled his free hand on her back, though it was a very, very careful touch.

Milla pushed forward with another sway, and only had to wait half a second for him to pick up on the move. To every gurgle in the gutters of the running rain they took another dip, though there was clear hesitation and a panic in Sasha's eyes. "I am supposed to lead?"

"Supposed to, sure, but I've been backleading this whole time. We're both hearing the same music, darling – don't be afraid, just embrace it, move with it. It's a science you have to feel."

He furrowed his brow. "A science to feel..."

A couple seconds after those words and there was a sudden shift. Rather than having to wait for his moves, Sasha began to catch up, swaying with modest confidence in sync with his would-be partner. Smiling, Milla flowed with the motion, sensing a different sort of energy seeping from the man. It wasn't as awkward as before – still kind of gangly, with just a slight stutter in the elbows – but with an actual order to it. There was a comfortable rhythm to his actions as opposed to just predictable beats; a charge that flowed between their fingers and arched through their bodies. It twisted and turned, bobbed and weaved, with fluidity and grace in complementary motions that had as of yet been impossible and unlikely to happen.

To dance was to move with whatever music could be found, even if it was as simple as the falling rain. Milla giggled when Sasha decided to pull a bold maneuver and add in a kick to his step, a beat that complied to the distant sputter of water draining from the gutters and into the grass. It wasn't the most natural step but it somehow worked into the routine. Improvisation, Milla thought. Better for them to work on it now, when they were still training. And it was much more comfortable to learn while swaying to the rain outside as opposed to being chased while out on an assignment.

They continued the dance for quite a while, zoning out from reality and lapsing into touches of the mental space. She couldn't recall precisely landing in his little rubix cube, but there were brief flashes of it in her memory – and the air didn't seem to want to choke her anymore. And while their minds would remain different visually, the gap that separated the two seemed to have shrunk.

Like the one in the physical world.

That wasn't intentional.

Sasha coughed and scrambled to compose himself, while Milla just brushed it off with a chuckle. Looking desperately for something to occupy himself with, Sasha pointed to the alarm clock on his desk, waving his finger at it.

"F-Frau Vodello, would you um – would you care to eat dinner with me?"

"I'm not eating anything in here, darling; that's where I'm drawing the line."

"N-no...I meant the...the cafeteria..."

She laughed. "I know, I know." Milla took a step back while Sasha adjusted his sweater, pausing to consider his next move, which turned out to be presenting his arm for her to latch on to.

"You can lead," he offered weakly. "I am fine with being the follow."

"Are you sure?" she teased. He nodded, although it came with a shrug.

"Lead, follow; whatever the role, we both must be able to fit it if we are to be partners."

Well, the words were true. Maybe at this rate, the two of them could work out their obvious differences – the factor of 'opposites' that had paired them up in the first place, and get to being more 'complementary'.