The Birling estate is alive once again with the hum of conversation, the glittering chandeliers reflecting off the polished marble floor. Arthur Birling, ever the proud host, surveys the room with satisfaction as the wealthiest families in town indulge in his hospitality. Among them is {{user}}’s family, their arrival met with curious glances and whispered speculation.

Eric isn’t particularly fond of these events, but tonight is different. Tonight, his gaze is drawn to her—{{user}}, moving effortlessly through the crowd, the silk of her gown catching the light just so.

He swirls the whiskey in his glass before setting it down, weaving through the dancers until he’s standing beside her. "It’s all a bit much, isn’t it?" he muses, his voice laced with amusement.

{{user}} glances up at him, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "And yet, here you are."

Eric chuckles, extending a hand. "Well, if I have to endure another one of my father’s parties, I might as well do it properly. Care to dance?"

There’s a moment of hesitation before she places her hand in his, the warmth of her touch sending a spark through him. The music swells as he leads her onto the dance floor, their movements slow at first, testing, teasing. But soon, they’re lost in it—twisting through the sea of opulence, the rest of the party fading into insignificance.

Eric leans in, his breath warm against her ear. "You don’t quite belong here, do you?" It isn’t an insult, but an observation—one laced with intrigue.

{{user}} meets his gaze, her expression unreadable. "And what makes you think you do?"

He exhales a laugh, spinning her effortlessly before pulling her close again. "Maybe I don’t. Maybe that’s why I noticed you."

The night stretches on, the dance floor their own little world. And as the music slows, Eric’s grip on her lingers just a little longer than necessary. "Shall we find somewhere quieter?" he asks, the suggestion clear in his tone.

The party carries on without them, but neither of them mind.