For arch-and-pointe
Grantaire sat in the corner of the large room, softly massaging his ankles; his eyes carefully followed the movements and jumps of the other dancers, but he didn't seem to have the intention to talk with them. He had failed to get along with anyone since he had arrived to that school of ballet, but it was not something that worried him; Grantaire had never been too social. Perhaps the only problem was that, at some point, he would have to look for a partner for some duet tests, but he decided not to worry about it more than necessary at that moment. All he wanted was to continue improving, since the dancers would soon be examined carefully under the attentive eye of their mentors. The dark-haired boy arched his right foot and stroked the perfect arch of his instep, watching his fingers impeccably aligned in perfect harmony; it was all he needed. Suddenly the door opened; someone broke into the room. It was a young boy, almost of his same age. Grantair had never seen him before, and although he exchanged his azure glance with him for a fleeting moment, he didn't dare to say anything. The extreme competitiveness in that place caused the people had a haughty behavior, and Grantaire didn't want to be involved in a new dispute. Not again.