"I'd hate to be the fool." She ribs, processing their shared movement stride by stride until she's able to build the foundations of a steady rhythm. Mostly. Ripley isn't quite as graceful as her companion.

They press close, hand in hand, one pair of eyes electrified, the other eager to keep pace. Step, step, step. She's utterly captivated.

"You sound well-traveled. Where's this dance come from?"