Welcome to Gaia! ::

The milk was likewise slow-quaffed without interruption of commentary or levity- Herger had pretty clear priorities. Putting out the fire was the top of any and every list. He did, near the end of the glass, manage a dismissive wave.

If the point was that it was a drink to have fun with at compatriots expense, then why woudl she have warned him? Didn't that spoil the joke? Bar games and social niceties weren't always the same thing, and it was something he happily accepted as a separate culture. When he put the empty glass down, able to talk connectedly, Herger offered further, "Don't mind. Spice is good, I'm just not used to it. Not even a little"

He wanted to ask who she would suggest if she were seriously looking around for this supposed contest of skill, but the thought idled away compared to suggestions of dancing. The pleasant buzz of the many shots in succession distracted to favorable imaginings and prompted quick agreement, "Dancing is very good. Let's dance."

Herger was not she about dancing, public performance, public speaking ...or much really. The reticence of most people, whatever their gender, was just lost on him. Dancing had an inherent silliness and sexiness to it- it just depended on the person and their mood. Whether people were judging him based on either aspect hardly mattered when he was there to have fun himself, enjoying both, which he new how to do. Being called handsome right off the bat helped. And getting first row seats/view of the jubilee, which could only be done doing his best Technoviking on the dance floor.

"Is midrifting a need?" He pulled the front of his own shirt up to secure behind his head and neck as some model shoots for men involved. It was light teasing, he hoped, and let her know he most certainly had taken the eyeful of abs happily.

The walk to the dance floor itself was more unnerving. Herger had intact memory of parts of his Negaverse service, and the light touches read exactly so to the eye familiar with the days years ago before donation centers. Days when the secrecy and subterfuge were necessary and rule. he reached out to take her hand in his own, gentle, if he could. To squeeze it and distract from that behavior and redirect it to paying attention to the touch of a friend.

The message in the pulling away from the connection could not be more clear to his mind. She wasn't interested in connection, the door was closed. He was not welcome.

Some cannot be open. It may be personal, it may not be, but it is her choice and her comfort. Its okay. It was still a damper, but one not worth ruining all the night over. They could still at least have a lighter evening with a small count of free hours and free money that supported some image of a 'normal' life to any who were watching the personas they put on like cloaks of protection.

It did mean that he didn't watch her body closely, attention only occasionally and appreciatively drawn but no longer in any part of that game. A closed door, especially one of emotion, was a closed door for Herger- his heart was the best part of him, rather than his head. All told, what drew his attention most when it was caught was hips, for however much he appreciated all other aspects of physicality in another body. In his own dancing, which was practiced, he placed no particular emphasis on skill or sexiness so much as keeping rhythm, making use of his own fitness and showing a good time with lifts, endurance moves and a willingness to try just about anything.

It was a handful of hours in active dancing before he bowed off to the bar to ask for two rounds of water for each of them. He could feel his cheeks were flushed with the metabolized alcohol, and the buzz was gone and replaced by a deep want for hydration. And he felt famished. Herger waited for Mia to finish some water before hazarding, "Were you up for some late night food? I'll buy."