her, not at ze ground!” With a tortured sigh, she dropped
her cane and walked over to them. “Watch Madame
LaViolet.”
Pushing Up out of the way, the dance instructor took Taz
by the waist and led her in neat circles around the floor of
the studio that had been cleared specifically for this top-
secret purpose. “1-2-3, 1-2-3 – see, the Lieutenant can do
eet, Comman-daire!”
It was true, Taz was taking to the instruction rather
easily, to her own surprise. When it came right down to it,
learning to dance wasn’t that different from learning to fight
- it was all choreography, movement, focusing on your
partner -
Madame LaViolet led Taz back to Up. “Now,” she said,
in a transparently patient voice. “Offer your hand to the
lady, Comman-daire.”
Up tentatively held out his hand. Taz took it, and placed
her other hand on his shoulder, looking determinedly at the
instructor.
“Now, take her by the waist – but gently, Comman-daire,
she’s a woman, not a missile launcher.”
Up raised his eyebrows at this, but did as he was told.
“Now, both of you, look at each other, you’re supposed
to be in love, are you not?”
Taz slowly raised her eyes to meet his. Eye contact, it
was such a simple thing, but it seemed to take on a whole
new meaning now that they were standing in a make-shift
dance studio, poised together so intimately. Something
glimmered shyly in Up’s blue eyes that made her heart skip
a beat. He was clearly a better actor than she took him for.
Madame LaViolet clapped her hands. “Good, good!
Now, we dance – 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3-”
The dance instructor pronounced Up as having much
improved when they finally, dizzily, came to a stop. “But