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On twitter, Vasily came across very young, very naive, and strangely open. In person, he was a bit different: the youth more closed-off, a bit better protective, serious. He hadn't been joking about being able to put an outfit together, at least. It probably wasn't Melvin's style -- too loud, too much black -- but it was definitely a look.

Today he showed up with his hoodie up and his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his shoulders hiked and a frown on his face. Maybe this was a sign of nerves, something that made him hide behind his hair and hunker down. Or maybe this was just how he always was, and it had nothing to do with waiting for Melvin to open his door.

In the doorway, Vash hesitated -- something about Melvin's overly formal manner putting him on edge, making him burrow a bit deeper into his hoodie, turning his eyes narrowed and suspicious. For a moment, he looked around the place, grimacing just a bit at the decor. There was nothing wrong with it, exactly, but the sheer tidiness of it meant, to his mind, that Melvin was completely out of his mind.

"Uh. No. I'm okay." Instead of going for the alcohol, he eased carefull yaround Melvin to stop in front of the stereo and smooth fingers over the front of his ipod. It was surprisingly old, battered; not the newest generation but two or three ago, the back side covered with various stickers, peeling at the edges. He immediately turned it on to flick through the selection and make sure everything was still there.

"...how'd you do this?"

"It's like magic, then." He looked thoughtful, thumbing through several screens of music before putting on something clanging and jarring and loud -- and Vash looked pleased, sighing as the music came on. Relieved. With that in the background, he finally turned to look back at Melvin.

"I still gotta charge it, or does it run on magic now, too?" It was an appraising sort of look; one that filtered Melvin out of the useless creep column of his mind and into the potentially useful one.

"Uh huh." It was only half paying attention, as the music filled his head -- and then the words sunk in and Vash clicked back into focus, meeting Melvin's eyes. He snorted just a bit, reaching out to turn the music down and then pointedly shrugging out of his hoodie. Bracelets rattled around his bare wrists as he folded arms across his chest.

"I like good music. So it's kinda all over, so long as it's good to listen to, right? I don't care what it is otherwise."

An indignant flicker, and Vash tipped his head to try and look down his nose at Melvin -- which was easier said than done, really. The other man had a good four or five inches on him.

"In what way don't I seem like someone who can ******** dance?" Vash took it as a challenge, spearing Melvin with that look for another moment before he turned to page through all his music in search of something with a beat. "What do you even know?"

He was prepared to be indignant about the word uptight as well, mouth hanging open and eyebrows pulling down -- but Melvin didn't linger with the thought, and so Vash let it go. This time.

"...not waltzing." He snorted just a bit like that, shaking his head a tiny bit with his attention lingering on the screen, now. "I mostly danced at parties. A couple times we went out to clubs, it wasn't terrible, so that's most of what I got. Hopefully that's what you were hoping for?"

Vash made a non-committal sound until he'd picked a decent song, and then he turned a critical eye back to Melvin. While it built up steam, he made a vague gesture in the other man's direction. "Tap out the beat. At least prove you got rhythm."

His own foot went, easily, and fingers echoed the beat against the side of his leg. Vash could follow the music.

The relief washed over Vash's face. It seemed he was surprised that Melvin had any rhythm -- but pleasantly so. It meant he wasn't entirely unteachable. Of course, at eighteen-and-awkward, Vasily also didn't have the first clue how to begin this lesson, and was just self-conscious enough that it made him hesitate at every step, made him chew on the inside of his cheek for a moment before gesturing Melvin out of the chair.

"Stand up, it'll be easier. And then you can move your feet, too." In demonstration, he shifted weight from one foot to the other. It was a simple motion, but when Vash did it, there was something that really did turn it into dance. He knew how to move.