For over half an hour, you had struggled to find your footing. Despite your repeated stumbles onto his bony toes, Itward remained his usual, pleasant self.

"I don't think I'm cut out for this," you muttered, retreating to the table for a drink. You envied his lack of skin; it must be nice not needing to sweat.

Itward watched you, unmoving. "We can stop if you’d like. Truly, there is no pressure."

You looked back at him. Despite your clumsy attempts, he seemed genuinely happy just to have your company. "How about one last try?" you asked.

His socketed eyes widened before softening. "Are you sure?"

You nodded and stepped back into his space. Even hunched over, the skeleton towered over you. He took your hands with a lightness that suggested he feared breaking your joints. With a soft clack of his jaw and a chuckle, he pulled you closer. "I can’t turn down your boldness... that’d be rather cruel."

The dance began again. With Itward’s hands steady on your shoulder and torso, your upper body stayed balanced. You caught yourself wondering what magic supported his tall, organless frame—only to stumble as your foot caught his.

"Steady," he soothed, pulling you flush against his surprisingly warm chest to keep you upright. "I won't let you fall, Dear."

As you moved across the floor of the Great Flying Machine, you focused intensely on your feet, battling the subtle, rhythmic rocking of the ship in flight. You stole a glance upward, noting his half-closed eyes and the thin wisp of steam curling from his hat. Your face flushed, and you quickly looked away.

When the music finally faded, leaving only the hum of the engine and the faint creak of his bones, he slowed to a stop. It had been a simple dance—barely more than stepping in circles—but it was the most successful attempt yet.

You stepped back, smiling. "I didn't drag us both to the floor this time."

Itward broke into a soft laugh. "No, I suppose you didn’t!"

"Maybe we can try again... when the ship has landed?" you suggested.

A jolt seemed to go through him. "Oh, Dear! I didn't even realize—the rocking wasn't too much for you, was it?" He fretted his fingers together, his worry immediate.

"Not really," you lied halfway.

To lighten the mood, you teased, "Maybe next time I’ll let you spin me. Or a dip?"

"Oh, I’m not sure about that," he jested, his "smile" widening as you playfully slapped his arm. "You’d likely grab me back and then we’d both be on the floor."