"I'm not about to step on those shiny little shoes of your's if that's what you're worried about." He stated, though the almost perpetual grin plastered on his face made it hard to tell if he was feigning the reassurance. You had been professionally trained in ballroom dancing for years now, you knew the art of skill and grace better than just about anyone else. .... He did not know about all that stuff. He looked like someone your parents would warn you about taking drugs from. Baggy clothes with scuffed shoes, unruly hair that he'd used enough gel that it made you certain he'd combust if you pulled out a lighter. He'd only volunteered to be your partner because he didn't trust anyone else on the team to beat Adamska or Eva in any form of dancing. The troupe had started as a borderline joke after Miller had caught a few members of MSF attempting to breakdance, they'd expected to be reprimanded for slacking off but he'd simply sighed and done some breakdancing that all the troupes swore up and down could put anyone else to shame so they'd started a small club as an attempt to pass the time and beg Miller to teach them. You'd scoffed at it, that was until you'd been volun-told to do a partner dance with someone in order to win a friendly competition with Adamska and Eva. Miller had been volunteered by the dance troupe to partner with you since no one else seemed willing to due to in fear of messing up and getting yelled at. Though Miller seemed to have taken it in stride "I'm not about to try and make you do a headspin if that's a concern either." He gave the same nonchalant reassurance as he blinked and pushed his glasses up higher to the bridge of his nose