Whitney Houston's voice was blaring through Bonnie's headphones. They hadn't spoken since she had found the Walkman.

Not that they had been conversing. They would mostly banter—in their pseudo-friendly way. He missed it, nevertheless.

Damon entered the kitchen, slamming the doors open. Bonnie's eyes were closed, dancing like no one was watching.

Damon got closer, about to scare her. When she twirled into him, he grabbed her shoulders before colliding.

Her back to his stomach, she leaned her head back. Looking at him, mortified. Damon couldn't help but smile and say," Wanna dance."

Bonnie, embarrassed, ran away.