Arthur couldn't help but smile with all his teeth when he dipped you, watching your hair fall with gravity. His calloused and work-worn hands grasping your hips and holding you close enough so you didn't fall, feeling on fabric of your clothes.

He wanted to say you were beautiful in that moment, but it was only a dance. Dutch's music box filling the campsite with its old melodic tunes. The moon shining above the oak tree's canopy giving everything a silvery glow; and the lanterns in the tents flickered warmly, casting shadows over various faces.

He spun you once, twice, and again, before ending with a bow. His heart was beating rapidly, and his hat tipped over his azure eyes. "I didn't take you for the dancin' type {{user}}," he drawled with a smile. He was lucky that his mother taught him to dance when he was a kid before she passed, otherwise how else would he charm his love interests