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Humming beneath her breath to the music playing from her phone, Misha lifted both arms high above her head, fingers lacing together, and stretched. She raised up on her toes, allowing the stretch to expand and run through her entire body. Then she slowly allowed gravity to pull her back down until she was flat-footed.

The vinyl of the flooring was cool against her bare feet but felt much more stable than working on the tumbling mats. She had already used those for her floor stretches, anyway. Now was the time to move. She slipped off the loose t-shirt which had offered extra protection to reveal leopard patterned leggings and an over-sized tank-top over a sports bra. Letting the shirt drop as she crossed to her phone, she tapped a few buttons and adjusted the volume.

The song she wanted queued up, Misha grinned to herself and paced back to the spot in front of the mirrors which stretched along part of the wall in the gym. She took position and a slow, deep breath. On the exhale, her hip dropped and she stepped into the movements of her assigned belly dance routine.

Despite her focus on the dance steps, Misha sensed the attention fixated on her. If nothing else, living at the Prytaneum and going out to fight things had expanded her senses to a level of alertness previously unknown. Not that she was ever oblivious to an appreciative gaze and whoever stood at the door was definitely casting approval. Still, she kept her eyes closed a bit longer as she performed a complicated hip-roll and turned on the ball of her foot. Then she opened her eyes.

Aha! Mal. Yes, that was definite male appreciation. She immediately shot him a saucy grin and a shimmy. Then she quirked an eyebrow and motioned with a delicate hand to invite him further into the room.

"You're not bothering me at all." Misha pursed her lips for a moment as she completed the final complicated steps, a series of rolls and a dip before straightening. Then she smiled again, full and wide and all for him. "Do I look bothered, Mal? I was just running through a new routine and I think I got it right."

The song trailed off and then a new one started. Misha shook her head before giving her entire body a little shiver to loosen muscles again. Then she skipped over to her phone. She lowered the volume but did not turn it off, though her finger tapped it into shuffle mode. She turned to him, head cocked, still smiling. "You're welcome, Indy-darling. I was hoping you didn't think it was too cheesy."

The moment her hand closed on his, Misha's eyes clouded a bit with concern. She could feel the difference in his touch from other times and wondered just what kind of working out he had been doing before finding her. She said nothing about it, though, and simply let his fingers close around hers. Her own touch was gentle and naturally warm but soft.

"Are you telling me that you need an excuse to ask for kisses? I find that hard to believe."

Immediate delight lit her expression as he moved her into position easily and then coaxed her into a dance. She laughed softly, just beneath her breath, and squeezed his hand. Then she met his steps and matched them in the unthinking way of a natural dancer. "Very gentlemanly," she announced. "I approve. A girl is far more likely to give kisses to a respectful sort of guy."

Her eyes crinkled with more laughter. "I imagine you've gotten an awful lot of kisses."

"Of course not. Bragging is what frat boys do." Misha leaned into the turn slightly for emphasis. As she straightened, she smirked at him and her free hand slid up his arm to his shoulder and then came to a rest behind his neck, warm and easy and undemanding. She felt remnants of stress and strained muscles but it was far less than she had suspected. This reassured her about their course of conversation and movement. "Or for guys with something to prove and what could you possibly have to prove?"

"Mmmhmm. I had been studying it before Aphrodite picked me up in a dirty-talk chatroom." While she had not been shy about telling people her recruitment story, Misha had often left off the tiny detail about the online chatroom having a decided rated-R-and-above flavor. It was less shame - what was that? - and more a consideration that others might not have the same level of freedom she felt. Somehow, she suspected Mal would not be put off in the least to discover she had a hobby of visiting such rooms for no-strings fun.

"I found some online courses and Youtube videos so I could pick it up again," she added. "It's a heck of a work-out. You use muscles that you didn't realize you had if you're doing it right." Very gently, with a focus on soothing with no forwardness or expectations, Misha rubbed her fingers against the back of Mal's neck in small, massaging circles. Their dance continued, friendly and distracting.

"You, by the way, are a very good dancer."

She caught the slow exhale, wondered at it, and filed it away in the back of her mind without comment. Instead, she smirked and flicked the hair at the nape of his neck with her nails. "That sounds like a challenge," she laughed. "You better be careful. I've been dancing since I was about five years old."

Misha arched up an eyebrow then. "Of course, not all of my partners have been as smooth as you. Pre-teen ballroom dancing really lacks a certain... Something."