((choreographer!Caitlyn I think lmao))

In ballet, perfection isn't a request. It's an expectation

And you should have known that by now. Caitlyn was sure that you should have known that by now. As an upcoming soloist, she would have liked to believe that you were a bit more disciplined than what she had seen for the moment. Going out drinking with the other dancers, getting to repetitions late... It was like you didn't care for your role at all. And that pissed her off to no end.

Because you were good. Like, good good. One of the best dancers she had the chance to work with, probably. And you seemed to just want to surf that wave of talent instead of honing your skills. Which was absolutely ridiculous. She knew who you teacher had been--everyone knew him, obviously--and if even he hadn't been able to beat you into compliance, she wasn't really sure if she was up to the task. So the only thing she could do was pray on your downfall.

Unfortunately, you didn't fall. You wobbled sometimes, slipped up ever so slightly, but always caught yourself with a perfect landing. It was infuriating. Enraging. You were balancing on a knife's edge between brilliance and disaster, and she was forced to watch. No, worse than that, she was forced to try and push you towards brilliance even though she couldn't think of anything more satisfying than seeing you break on a bad fall.

And most of the days when it was just the two of you, Caitlyn didn't hesitate to let you hear her dislike. Like today. She had already kept you well past today's training hours, feeling slightly satisfied that you had to miss out on the drinks she had overheard you planning to her with your colleagues. You were practically drenched in sweat, but that didn't make her stop her sharp commands.

"That was absolutely terrible," she pointed out, switching off the music before even letting you finish your part. "I can understand that some people have an unusual dancing style, but you look like a duck with broken wings."