[ Phrased this way, it's easy to assume D means no amount or type of drink motivates him to break out his dancing shoes. Reasonable enough. Except, keen demonic senses returned upon his harmonization have an alternative theory in the works. Pressed in close like this, there's no way he could miss that the trademark scent of a human is absent from the man at his side. All that J can suss out is the vague hint of something unusual, though it's not the demonic essences he's familiar with, either. Whatever it is, those clues suggest D is something patently inhuman. ] If that's your way of telling me not a thing out there can get you drunk, then you have my heartfelt condolences.
That's half the fun at a shindig like this. [ With his ability to regenerate, intoxication is a difficult thing to achieve when cells are continuously renewing and flushing his system free of every inebriating toxin in overtime. Sadly, the taste and a brief buzz are all it can offer him, and that isn't much of a payoff for someone as indulgent as J.
Without expecting to be the one swept off his feet and onto the dance floor, there's a thrilling spark of genuine surprise as D roughly clasps their hands together and launches them into the first steps of a waltz. This is one of the few things he lives for when the long hours and endless days grow dull and lose their flavor: The delightful rewards of baiting for something unexpected. Anything from the unflappable enigma of a man presently monopolizing his interest would have been an alluring distraction; even a harsh telling-off or physical altercation. What he receives is leagues better, when it provides the duel benefit of drawing out their exchange while indulging J with the finer things he's wont to enjoy.
J's benefactor had educated the scruffy young thing he'd once been on all the points of being a proper gentleman, from etiquette to table manners. Naturally, instructions on dance had come included with all of that. Lessons that rarely found themselves put into use before the world's supposed end, when the demon's free time had been too fully occupied between the work of reaping souls and his own personal project of finding a successor.
Muscle memory does the heavy lifting now. Quick as it happens, J's pawed feet deftly slip into the proper tempo. With each graceful step, he traces the invisible patterns of a waltz in sync with D's pacing. ]
See? This isn't so bad now, is it? [ All smiles, J's words flow through a bit of laughter that bubbles up as the waltz takes the pair through several turns. Their speed isn't breakneck, but the party behind still becomes a blur of bodies and sounds as his focus and burgeoning curiosity narrow to the man holding J's hand in his. ] It's a wonder why anyone has to twist your arm to get you out onto the dance floor, when you've got moves like these up your sleeve.
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That's half the fun at a shindig like this. [ With his ability to regenerate, intoxication is a difficult thing to achieve when cells are continuously renewing and flushing his system free of every inebriating toxin in overtime. Sadly, the taste and a brief buzz are all it can offer him, and that isn't much of a payoff for someone as indulgent as J.
Without expecting to be the one swept off his feet and onto the dance floor, there's a thrilling spark of genuine surprise as D roughly clasps their hands together and launches them into the first steps of a waltz. This is one of the few things he lives for when the long hours and endless days grow dull and lose their flavor: The delightful rewards of baiting for something unexpected. Anything from the unflappable enigma of a man presently monopolizing his interest would have been an alluring distraction; even a harsh telling-off or physical altercation. What he receives is leagues better, when it provides the duel benefit of drawing out their exchange while indulging J with the finer things he's wont to enjoy.
J's benefactor had educated the scruffy young thing he'd once been on all the points of being a proper gentleman, from etiquette to table manners. Naturally, instructions on dance had come included with all of that. Lessons that rarely found themselves put into use before the world's supposed end, when the demon's free time had been too fully occupied between the work of reaping souls and his own personal project of finding a successor.
Muscle memory does the heavy lifting now. Quick as it happens, J's pawed feet deftly slip into the proper tempo. With each graceful step, he traces the invisible patterns of a waltz in sync with D's pacing. ]
See? This isn't so bad now, is it? [ All smiles, J's words flow through a bit of laughter that bubbles up as the waltz takes the pair through several turns. Their speed isn't breakneck, but the party behind still becomes a blur of bodies and sounds as his focus and burgeoning curiosity narrow to the man holding J's hand in his. ] It's a wonder why anyone has to twist your arm to get you out onto the dance floor, when you've got moves like these up your sleeve.