Even you, with all your talk of dreams, cannot deny that there is benefit to political alliances reinforced through ties of marriage.
[Don't act like there's no possible benefit, Claude. Neither of them are foolish enough to believe that.
But he doesn't push beyond that, doesn't let himself continue arguing. He knows as well as anyone that he's only making himself miserable. That he will continue to do so if he keeps clinging to these notions but he can't quite turn off the voice in his head, the one that sounds suspiciously like his father, that keeps insisting he's selfish for it.
Still, even after admitting that much (and he knows Claude understands precisely what he meant, especially when he repeats it) the other man offers his hand, a smile. No anger or judgement or any of a million terrible things he might have expected to see.
He offers to just.... return to dancing like it's just another playful offer, like it's not enough to make his heart leap into his throat.]
You- [There's the slightest hitch in his voice that only makes his cheeks brighten and the idea of all the varied implications that could be taken from such a gesture amid this conversation race through his mind for a moment. It's a challenge, not doing something foolish. Whether that's more sabotaging or letting himself act on a single one of the impulses he hides from himself.]
I don't think you're ready for a foxtrot. [A weak smile, not nearly as teasing as he'd meant but it's still something.] Why don't you teach me one of your Almyran dances?
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[Don't act like there's no possible benefit, Claude. Neither of them are foolish enough to believe that.
But he doesn't push beyond that, doesn't let himself continue arguing. He knows as well as anyone that he's only making himself miserable. That he will continue to do so if he keeps clinging to these notions but he can't quite turn off the voice in his head, the one that sounds suspiciously like his father, that keeps insisting he's selfish for it.
Still, even after admitting that much (and he knows Claude understands precisely what he meant, especially when he repeats it) the other man offers his hand, a smile. No anger or judgement or any of a million terrible things he might have expected to see.
He offers to just.... return to dancing like it's just another playful offer, like it's not enough to make his heart leap into his throat.]
You- [There's the slightest hitch in his voice that only makes his cheeks brighten and the idea of all the varied implications that could be taken from such a gesture amid this conversation race through his mind for a moment. It's a challenge, not doing something foolish. Whether that's more sabotaging or letting himself act on a single one of the impulses he hides from himself.]
I don't think you're ready for a foxtrot. [A weak smile, not nearly as teasing as he'd meant but it's still something.] Why don't you teach me one of your Almyran dances?