@lunaestice: cont
Standing on the side, watching as pairs of students danced to the music like it was the most natural thing in the world, Ashe only became more keenly aware just how different of a world they lived in. It wasn’t that he envied them or resented them. Nobody asks to be born the way they are, after all. It was just a fact that they were different, just like it’s a fact that the sky is blue. It being a fact didn’t make the difference any less intimidating at times though. The cup in his hand made what, the third chilled beverage he had? All in the name of trying to cool off his nerves. When one of the people setting the tables appeared to get closer to him, briefly the boy wondered if he was in trouble somehow for drinking too much. Thankfully for him (and his poor heart) the man seemed to only be here for conversation. “What? Oh, no!” Was he eyeing one person for too long? Was his infatuation too obvious? (Not that he was actually interested in someone right now… of course.) The boy laughed softly, a slight flush to his freckled cheeks. “I was just.. thinking about joining the others on the dance floor. But I keep psyching myself out, ahaha….” “It really is so different, when you’ve been taught to dance since you were young. I only just recently started learning myself.” Green eyes then flit towards the man, watching him work. “Would you.. perhaps like some help? I’d rather be of use to someone than just stand around all night.”
Ronan has never been one for words of comfort, his mother being a woman hard enough to make up for the father he never knew, so instead he just nods his head sympathetically and slides a new - the fourth - glass out from his arrangement over toward the other boy. He thinks at first to tell him that he doesn't really need the help - that the work isn't that demanding and he's been rationing it to keep himself busy anyway - but if he were in his place, he might long for something to do with his hands, too.
"Sure. I don't think anyone will mind." He nods to a box sitting on a chair nearby. It's full of champagne glasses filled with ciders and punch from the ice box in the kitchen. "And if they do, you can just say you're really thirsty."
He takes two more from the box and adds them to the arrangement, which is beginning to look like a triangle.
"I know what you mean, though. These nobles look like they were born knowing all the steps to every ballroom dance, but don't you think it looks sort of rigid?"
He nods to the floor now, where the couples in the middle are engaged in a box step of some kind.
"Elegant, I guess. But not fun at all. You're only learning now because--" Ronan trails off with a hum, turning to look his temporary help over from head to toe, thinking, considering his attire but mostly the freckles across his cheeks. He thinks that maybe this was someone who had spent more time outside than any privileged lifestyle would demand; if he could see his hands he'd know for sure, but the gloves tell him little. Still, Ronan finds him easy to talk to - forthright and unassuming, nothing like what he'd come to expect from noblemen.
"--you never expected you'd inherit a title until recently. Am I right?"
