[A compliment from Ferdinand might settle strangely in his ears for all of a handful of seconds, but it’s true that the man’s earnest nature — searingly so, sometimes — makes it less odd and more something to be expected once in a blue moon.

Still, there is no such thing coming from him today, only a halt to their dance, and an observation ringing true — Hubert, if he must twirl about on the ballroom floor (or the courtyard, as it stands), is not the sort to be led. He gives Ferdinand a considering look, pausing.]

I thought to do you the favor of letting you flaunt your purported talents, but...

[He concedes to switch their positions, a hand moving to Ferdinand’s side while the other remains holding onto his.]

...You’re not wrong. [In the distance, the familiar, easy tempo of a waltz recedes in favor of the next piece coming into play — a little livelier, the rhythm a little more pronounced, something bold to break up the three-beat melodies of what had been playing before.

If one didn’t know any better, one might think that even music itself is working in tandem with Hubert tonight.]

I am, after all, more impressed by a dance partner that can adapt to something less predictable than the usual waltzes on display. Do that much and I will concede that I may find this vaguely entertaining.

Think you can keep up, Ferdinand?