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[Ballroom plotbunny. Word Count: 590]
This part of the city was usually bustling, and that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Tall skyscrapers mixed with shorter constructions and the sidewalks were always packed with loudly chattering people. One building in particular, though on the outside it didn't present anything spectacular, housed 3/4 Time, a dance studio well-known for its champion professionals as well as its affordable classes. The studio was always in a whirl of activity... but today it seemed quiet. Too quiet, even for slow Sunday afternoon.
"You did what?!"
Naturally, the silence had to be broken. Two figures faced off in the center of an otherwise empty ballroom. One was a dark-haired young man whose face seemed permanently fixed into a scowl; the other was a slightly older, definitely more composed woman with her black hair pulled into a severe bun. The woman seemed to want to resist the urge to roll her eyes as she repeated, "Yes, Darren. I included you in the exchange program. You don't have to go anywhere. But Francine and I arranged this so that you could stop borrowing partners for practicing in competitions you can't compete in! I've given you chance after countless chance, Darren Ricci; I swear to God that this is the last straw. I don't know anything about your new partner except that Francine only had praise for her. She's also trained in standard."
Oh, now this was too much. "Standard! But I--"
"Could use the opportunity to gain some technique from cross-disciplinary training. You have good passion, Darren, but your technique..." He'd known this woman, the legendary Evelynn Hart, for nearly three years now. She'd put up with his inability to hold partners, his temper, his shortcomings, all because she fiercely believed in his untapped talent. She worked closely with Francine, an old friend of hers who owned a studio a long way away from the heart of the city--if she truly hated him, she could have forced him there. Not like he had anything to tie him to his cramped apartment. Evelynn gave a long-suffering sigh, reaching up to ruffle her pupil's brunette hair. Now he just felt bad. "I'm telling you, you can only benefit from this program. I know you're working the wedding class this quarter--"
"Which is complete bullshit, by the way, as if I have the patience for waltz--"
"It's the best way to keep membership fees down, darling, and you do know all the standard dances. In any case, this program only requires a few hours a week. I only ask that you try this out for a month. A month! Who knows, you may learn something." She brushed past him to walk towards the door, leaving no room for argument. "She's supposed to arrive soon. That gives you about an hour or two to get to know each other, and don't give me that whole spiel about how long it takes to prepare for a class." Darren grumbled, halfway through preparing an excuse about the wedding class that was indeed scheduled in a couple hours time.
She practically waltzed out the door, leaving it halfway open. It was impossible to win an argument with Evelynn Hart, and she knew that all too well. Pissed off and burning with energy, the brunette stomped over to the stereo in the corner of the room and launched into a fast-paced, intricate (and ultimately partner-less) salsa. As if some stiff-backed Standard dancer could ever match the level of a Latin dance. Clearly Evelynn was going senile.
 Felix-Fiasco · Tue Sep 06, 2011 @ 12:48pm · 0 Comments |
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