[ kovacs really doesn't dance, no matter what sleeve someone might designate for him, his current tall, bulky frame only making the entire ordeal likely even more awkward, since he isn't built for the natural movements meant to seek a rhythm rather than his more abrupt and swift style of fighting. the only thing that grants him any real form of aid is the connect of marta's fingers in his, forcing him to move with her rather than remaining stilted in place if he were standing with his hands free.
it's hard to say why he chooses to engage in it, but after the weeks they've had together here, playful commands in their office often leading to reluctant compliance, this only seems to be an extension of the sort of rhythm they've already developed, where subtle easy coaxing is all that's required in this branch of trust that typically comes without question.
for a while, he peers down at his feet, trying to pick up on the well-practiced steps of hers, attempting to mirror them since foot work, at least, is amongst his skills, even if it's typically for the purposes of landing a hit. lifting his eyes, it's the motions of movement that prove more difficult, focusing on the study of her hips, only to find himself forgetting the intent of learning to dance when he's more transfixed by the ease and joy of her dancing, paired with the brightness of a smile that he's never seen so wide before.
somehow, for a moment, he does let himself give in to the feeling, to the lack of thinking, burdens lifted from his shoulders to simply move with her, even if he lacks the natural rhythm she carries. when she stumbles though, his reflexes do kick in, one hand still clutching hers as the other presses firm to her hip to keep her upright as her back presses to to his chest. ]
She apologized. [ he states calmly but firm to the other man with a stare that practically warns him to accept the apology and move on before he turns their bodies away, almost protective around her as he looks at her from over her shoulder, fingers still holding onto her. ] You good?
no subject
it's hard to say why he chooses to engage in it, but after the weeks they've had together here, playful commands in their office often leading to reluctant compliance, this only seems to be an extension of the sort of rhythm they've already developed, where subtle easy coaxing is all that's required in this branch of trust that typically comes without question.
for a while, he peers down at his feet, trying to pick up on the well-practiced steps of hers, attempting to mirror them since foot work, at least, is amongst his skills, even if it's typically for the purposes of landing a hit. lifting his eyes, it's the motions of movement that prove more difficult, focusing on the study of her hips, only to find himself forgetting the intent of learning to dance when he's more transfixed by the ease and joy of her dancing, paired with the brightness of a smile that he's never seen so wide before.
somehow, for a moment, he does let himself give in to the feeling, to the lack of thinking, burdens lifted from his shoulders to simply move with her, even if he lacks the natural rhythm she carries. when she stumbles though, his reflexes do kick in, one hand still clutching hers as the other presses firm to her hip to keep her upright as her back presses to to his chest. ]
She apologized. [ he states calmly but firm to the other man with a stare that practically warns him to accept the apology and move on before he turns their bodies away, almost protective around her as he looks at her from over her shoulder, fingers still holding onto her. ] You good?