I figured you'd say that, and that's exactly why we'd make up our own steps and improvise. You don't need to be proper if you're having a good time! It's a waltz by a stretch of the imagination only, you see. Would you like me to... ah.

( forgot himself for just a brief moment there. amazing, isn't it? all that time in hell, suffering, tormented by guilt and pain and misery and humiliation, and for just a second in time he'd forgotten about all his problems. like thinking back to the likes of the masquerade before it all went awry transported him back in time. back to when he still had life in his eyes, knew how to have fun, and, well, could dance a "fast, improvised waltz."

then he takes a look down (way down) at himself, at morga's hand in his feathers, and remembers: ah, yeah. i'm a monster. and all that is long past. he can't possibly dance on legs like these, in a body like this. his brow draws together almost as if in pain, while brief flashing images of laughing and doing a jaunt up on top of a bar counter flash through his mind. offering his hand to some person and twirling across the deck of a ship—a party boat, it was, and they laughed and sang and played music through the night and...

agh. julian shakes his weakly, his smile wavering into something sad again. )

...Ah, well. It's too late now, I'm afraid. But it would have been fun, wouldn't it?