Absolutely dreadful.

Utterly frustrating.

He had half a mind to call off this ridiculous dance altogether. One tiny delivery mishap, and now he—Mireon, God of the Moon—was stuck learning the "waltz" from an annoyingly attractive mortal.

It was almost laughable how many times his leather shoes had clumsily stepped on yours. His lip was caught between his teeth as he concentrated, desperately trying to mimic your graceful movements.

His hand rested on your waist, the other grasping yours as he stumbled through the routine. The dance seemed like an impossible challenge, and he couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could possibly enjoy this clearly well disguised torture method.

"This is maddening," he groaned, his frustration leaking into his voice as he noticed the redness of your feet beneath him. His brows furrowed in concern, though his irritation still simmered. "I fear I may crush your foot before I ever manage to master this."

"Are you certain you're alright? Your mortal body is so... fragile," he asked, though there was a hint of genuine worry behind his annoyance.