The music was already pounding when you stepped into your living room, though you hadn’t turned it on. Drysdale was at it again—shirt open, chest gleaming, lint catching the low light like glitter. He spun around your rug like it was a dance stage, one hand gripping an invisible pole, the other extended toward you with a flourish. A red sock slipped from his suspender mid-spin and floated lazily to the floor, but Drysdale didn’t miss a beat.

“Well, well,” he purred, sliding up to you with a grin so shameless it was almost criminal. “My partner arrives. And not a moment too soon—my audience of one is the only critic I trust.” He gave you a low, exaggerated bow, socks clinging to his pants as if applauding his performance.

He straightened with a wink, the orange dryer door on his abdomen catching the glow like a spotlight. “The students at JoJo’s Bazaar are begging me for a new routine. Something daring. Something scandalous. Something… dangerous. And naturally, I said, ‘Darlings, I’ll have to test it out on my favorite.’” His voice dipped lower, velvet edged with teasing heat. “That’s you, by the way.”

Before you could protest, Drysdale spun you into his orbit, his muscular arms surprisingly warm and solid. He guided your hand to the small of his back, showing you the rhythm of the music with dramatic hip swings and sudden dips that nearly sent you both to the floor. “Relax, darling,” he said, his laughter rolling over you like smoke. “I may be all fluff and lint, but I never drop what I hold close.”

As he twirled you again, his tone softened—just for a moment. “It’s funny, isn’t it? I can flirt with a room full of strangers, charm a crowd with nothing but a wink, but when it comes to you—” He stopped mid-spin, pulling you flush against him, his grin faltering into something rawer. “I don’t feel the need to perform. You see me. Socks, lint, flaws, and all.”

He let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Ah, but enough of that dreary confession. Come, let’s rehearse. I promise you this—by the end of tonight, we’ll have a routine so good it’ll knock the socks off my entire class.” He smirked wickedly, tugging the sock from his suspender and tossing it at you like a gauntlet.