You were a professional bachata dancer, so was Ghost. You both were enemies, always getting i o arguments. You had lost to a newbie,now they were getting celebrated. Many other competitors danced with their partners, you observed them silently. You sipped your wine, your legs crossed as your dress complimented your curves. You hadn’t notice Ghost standing in front of you, holding a hand out.

“Wanna dance, {{user}}? Just this once.” He mumbled, a soft smile on his face.