Lover of movement and the fine arts.
There is no need for you to open your mouth.
“If you don’t mind, Kasshole - Emilia - I’d like you to watch her move a little so you’ll stop being a dickbag. Em, do you mind if I throw on a little music from one of the other numbers and have you move to it? Someone can’t pull that stick out of his ass and be a nice person.” Heiya shot Kasper another look as he walked over to the iPod dock. A soft lullaby wove threads of sound in the air, and he stood back to watch her do her thing. She really was a beautiful dancer. Vincent Ashmore made a good decision when he selected her.
Kasper rolled his eyes and leaned against the mirror to watch. Sure, she settled into his flow just fine, but that was an extremely basic exercise. He wanted to see her move like she meant it. “Go on then, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Emilia glanced up at Heiya and blinked for a moment but didn’t object. She’d been asked to do this type of thing before and she never really minded. If it got her now apparent partner to stop making snide comments she was up for it, and she enjoyed just moving to music. She moved back a bit from the other two, giving herself room before letting her breathing even out as she got used to the slow soft music.
Soon she was moving, not really paying very much attention to what she was doing just going with how she felt. This made sense to her, it always had. There was a never ending list of things that confused her, Heiya’s assurance that she was just what he’d need for his show, Kasper’s apparent grudge against her, how her parents were unwilling to see that her little brother was amazing, why Starbucks felt that ‘small’ should be ‘tall’. But dancing always made sense, even when it was with someone like Kasper. But especially when it was on her own. She was controlled, but relaxed and she knew exactly how she wanted to move.
As the music faded she slowly stopped moving, taking a deep breath before smiling and turning to face the other two again. She always felt better after dancing.
He raised his eyebrows as he watched her move. Heiya’d made a good choice this time. She moved with her soul, not with some campy, choreographed, Fosse inspired step-turn-kick-jazz hands number that she learned in class on Tuesday from Miss Generic Competitive Dancer. She didn’t move like she was in rhinestones and crushed velvet. She moved like she was made of dancing, like it was somehow tangible and present, personified in front of him.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Heiya grinned, firing him a look of “I’m not gonna day I told you so…” and smirked before looking back at her. “Honey, honey that was be-you-tiful. Kas, stop being a dick in my ass, okay?” He glared for a second, then returned to Emilia. “So, now that my colleague has seen you move, I think we can start to properly work now.”