Your heels tapping in a pattern, along with his shoes, echoing along the empty ballroom. A romantical soft pattern of taps in the dance you two shared, spinning across the ballroom. The soft music floating along the ghost like room. Your feet moving smooth across the floor, as your bodies moved in a ribbon of passion as you moved, hand interlocked, as gaze. Your right hand rested on his shoulder as his rested on your hip.

As your body walked forward, his walked back, interlocked in embers beneath the passion of the dance that enveloped you. He spun you, pulling you closer to whisper in your ear.

"You're good at this, aren't you? Your perfect at this, darling."