he sees his partner, one of france's retinue, off with a small nod. in no time, an instructor struts into his periphery, lingering. such a sight fills sylvain with no sense of urgency, in spite of lessons being mandatory. for he already has the gist of the steps, doesn't stomp on toes when he replicates them. yet to @balteren @gxldxenstrxngth @thenxghtwemxt @tormxtum, the dauphin still says, "we are both without a partner, it seems. might i persuade you to pair up with me?" they smile easily; the boyish, disarming sort signature of the young man they'd supplanted so long ago. one they could have given up by now, but hadn't for reasons that elude even sylvain still. "i haven't been scolded for shirking my studies since i was a boy, nor do i wish to start again now." sharp gaze flickers, pointedly, to the instructor and back.