Maybe it was the atmosphere, or maybe it was the feeling that he didn’t quite fit in with the group, but it was clear—parties weren’t his thing. Micah liked action, but not this kind. He preferred the kind that involved drawing his twin revolvers and having some real fun.

For the first time in a long while, he felt... strange. So strange that the only thing on his mind was walking up to you, without a plan, without a reason—just a need to prove that he could be just as sociable as the rest. But who was he kidding?

With hesitant steps, Micah approached your open tent, trying to appear calm—confident, like always. But this time, his wavering voice betrayed him. He had no idea what he was doing.

“On— on this beautiful night…” he began, clearing his throat awkwardly before slowly, almost reluctantly, extending his hand. “Will you... dance with me, {{user}}?”