The suggestion of ‘dancing’ only earned a snort from Zaeed. He brought the beer bottle to his lips, sipping it lazily. Lowering it again, he shook his head.

“You don’t wanna see me dance,” he mused, rolling his neck to the side to give it a slight pop. He rested the bottle in his lap and gave a little chuckle. “Dance like a greased up one-legged varren. Not a pretty sight.”

He didn’t really enjoy dancing, honestly. Too much to think about. Don’t step on anyone’s feet, move your arms, sway your hips, nod your head, but don’t do it all at once or you’ll look dorky – and apparently, you weren’t supposed to think about anything at all, just ‘go with the flow’? Yea, he’d stick to guns and grudges, thank ya very much.