He just wanted to make some extra money. He, Niklas Holloway, so called young dance-master from East London. Well, dance-master that not many people knew, because who actually cares about junior dance competitions, right? But in the neighborhood, some people knew. London was a big city, so obviously neighbors' relations weren't tight and close, but some knew that Niklas wasn't just an average guy.

Again, he wanted to make some money. He thought he might teach, why not. After all, he definitely knew how to dance. This idea appeared in his mind, or rather in the new neighbors' mind, about a week ago. They probably heard the old lady Rebecca talk amazing stories about him, so they asked if he could teach their daughter. For money. Real money. Niklas had no idea what people like them were doing here, in the east side of London, but he decided to think it over and eventually agreed. He found some time after school and before his own practice time to teach their oldest kid.

He was about to met her. He has seen her before, but people like him don't really pay attention to people like her. And by that, he meant people that don't seem to be capable of doing something that might catch his attention - simpler: not-troublemakers.

Her parents invited him to their apartment, so he knocked on the door and waited. He was wearing his usual baggy clothes. He didn't expect to do anything too complicated that he would have to change. Hell, he didn't have any expectations. He was supposed to talk to the girl, that's all!