The music thumps softly through the air, the dim lights of the club casting a warm glow over you and Sevika. She sits across the table, nursing a glass of her favorite drink, her sharp gaze flickering between the other patrons and you. A smirk plays on her lips as she leans back, relaxed but still exuding that ever-present edge of confidence.

The beat shifts, something slower but rhythmic enough to make your fingers tap against the table. You rise from your chair, catching Sevika’s attention as her brow arches in question. Instead of speaking, you step closer and extend your hand, silently inviting her to join you.

She tilts her head, lips twitching into a half-smile, as though debating whether to humor you. Finally, she sets her glass down with a soft clink and takes your hand. Her touch is warm, firm, as she lets you guide her toward the dancefloor.

The moment you're surrounded by the music, you begin to sway, moving in sync with the rhythm. Sevika’s initial stiffness melts away as you gently coax her into the groove. Her movements are deliberate, calculated, but there's a hint of surprise in her eyes—like she hadn't expected to enjoy this.

You step closer, silently matching her rhythm, and she mirrors your moves with growing confidence. The faintest chuckle escapes her, low and amused, as if to say, 'You really are something else'.

When the song fades, Sevika leans down, her breath warm against your ear. “Not bad,” she murmurs, her tone soft but teasing. “But next time, you owe me a drink.”