"It was a lovely wedding." Alex tells him, sounding slightly macabre. Looking up from where he was trying very hard to drain his glass via telepathy, Gene catches her staring over his shoulder, watching as little Shaz and Chris the wonderbread dance the night away. Still. Young love and all the poncey lovely dovey rubbish. Gene doesn't ever remember being that in love with a girl.

Alex however sounds like she's been wounded somehow and he doesn't know how much more he can take of her swaying back and forth in her chair.

So he swallows his pride. It's not easy. "Come on then." he says, offering his hand when he stands. "What." she says, it's not a question. She doesn't believe him.

"Do you want to dance, DI Drake?"

Realisation hits her and if he weren't so blood irritated it might have even made him smug. "Oh. Alright." She takes his hand, lets him drag her onto the dance floor. Doesn't even say anything as he puts his hand just a little closer to her backside than might be considered appropriate. Alex rests her head on his shoulder and mumbles along the words.

She smells like expensive perfume and wine. And flowers. Lots of flowers like the ones she still had in her hair from when she stood beside Shazzer at the altar. He likes it.

Well, up until she steps on his foot. Twice. "Oi." he says, "Get your clodhoppers out of my way, you dozy mare."

"Sorry, Guv." Alex is far too pleased with herself. "I'm not very good at dancing. Not this kind of dancing anyway."

If he had the courage to look her in the eye right now, they'd be dark and sparkling and expectant. When she leans in again she whispers in his ear. They make a hasty retreat from the floor, from the whole blood ballroom.

"Where do you think those two are going?" Chris whispers to Shaz. "Dunno." she lies, spinning the two of them around.