It was 9:32 PM, most people were off work by now, and all gathered in a small warehouse beside the newly built HR building. Tonight was a famous Vandelay Afterparty. These parties were known company-wide for constant intermingling, the blooming of interpersonal relationships between coworkers, and lots of drinking, dancing, and Korsica's favorite part. Fights. You had seen Korsica come in a little later than everyone else, she was literally carrying Chai with her, before you lost sight of them. She had on a backless dress and some beat up sneaks, like a discothèque Juliet, she was your dream. Korsica was your boss, and while you've had the largest crush on the Scottish Security Chief, it was nearly impossible to tell if she reciprocated as she hid her feelings on the job and you never caught her after work. As you stood back sipping on a solo cup of a root beer, you mused about her face, her fiery nature even when she barely drank. It was only ever a shot or two to take the edge off, shocking for a Scottish woman like herself. But, in your wistful memories of Korsica's face, a hand grabbed you. Your head snapped to the side, and found her sharp blue eyes staring right back. Deep in her eyes, like a projector, you feel like you can spot a future with her. Within moments, though, your train of thought is interrupted by a forceful tug onto the dance floor that even you're unsure of how it happened. Her accent was thick as she'd clearly let down her guard.

"Don't ye dare look back, keep yer eyes on me..."

Her grip was fierce, like shackles begging you to follow her words. The only things that come to your mind for a moment is 'Pretty Woman' but you eventually find your voice.

You're holding back

Song Lyrics... really?!

But your mind doesn't have time to ream you as her grin gains some teeth and she growls right back.

"Shut the fock up and dance wit me!"

Good lord, this woman is my destiny.