2024-11-30 - Unrehearsed & Unrequited

Spellbound loves giving their guests little sneak-peeks into all the work their technicians and employees put into the spectacle that is the Wintry Wonderland of Spellbound. Tonight is one of those opportunities for sneak-peeks, and Eddie is not the only photographer to capture the performers preparing for some of the staged performances coming soon to the islands.

While none of Leon's characters are featured in the performances, she's been cast in several dancing roles—a small relief for her, actually, as she hasn't had much chance to really keep her skills honed since the summer shows closed. The group has just finished up their last rehearsal, and the director has called it, leaving the performers to give each other quick farewells before beginning to close up for the night. Leon lingers back, letting everyone filter off while she grabs up her water bottle and starts toward Eddie. She tucks her water bottle into the pocket of her pristine white joggers; they go well with the combo of long-sleeve crop top and sports bra, also giving Eddie a little preview of what a Cali girl wears in winter. Her sneakers make not a single squeak on the floor until she dramatically twists her toe before swinging down to sit on the edge of the stage.

"Get some good shots?"

Eddie had been looking down at his camera, scrolling through shots -- are there more focused on the whirl of white joggers and dark hair than any of the other backup dancers? Perhaps, but it's not like anyone gets access to all of his raw data. He looks up sharply at the squeak, tilting his camera towards him, and then pushes off the pillar he's leaning against and steps forward toward Leon, offering up the camera for her to see the picture of three of the backup dancers -- centered on her -- in mid-step, their heads and hair thrown back dramatically.

"There's some good stuff in there. It's impressive. I know I can't do any of that. At least not without falling down or hurting myself. What did you think, did it go as well as it looked? Seemed like maybe there was some tension between... uh... Carmen and Denise?"

"I love it," Leon says, and she genuinely does. Her smile lifts high into her cheeks, almost wrinkling her nose with the sheer size of it. But then she sobers a bit, peeking over at the camera to admire the shot. "Wow, you really have a great eye, Eddie." She starts to thumb through a few more shots, but then quickly hands the camera back with heat in her cheeks. "Sorry, should have asked first." There wasn't enough taps for her to really notice that there are a lot of shots of her—maybe.

Her eyes slide over toward backstage, even if she can't see Carmen and Denise. "Oh yeah..." She huffs out a breath. "They've been in this weird love... quadrilateral... for a few months, and I guess Denise caught Carmen sleeping in Khalid's bed two nights ago, and so Denise went and slept with Chelsea." Her brows arch as her smile returns. "Dancers are all drama. You should be warned."

Eddie straightens up slightly when Leon starts thumbling through through the pictures, and then just gives a little wave to suggest that she can keep scrolling. It's not like the weighting of photos is outrageous. Just this side of noticeable if you're paying attention. But his eyes cross trying to follow the drama, "Wow. And Carmen wasn't okay with Denise sleeping with Chelsea, just like Denise wasn't okay with Carmen sleeping with Khalid, so the four of them didn't just solve it by hopping in the same bed together. Although I guess that would have required Khalid wanting Chelsea and vice versa too."

He leans against the front of the stage beside where Leon sits, resting his elbows on the dance surface, "I'm pretty sure that everyone is all drama, Leon. Sorry to break it to you. Maybe there's more of it among dancers because you're all bendy and no in imminent danger all the time, but there's drama in government, drama on deployment, drama on base... sometimes I think that humanity as a whole just seeks out drama."

"I haven't chased down to see if all the points interact or not yet. Guess that would make it not a square, but... some kind of weird star?" The dancer shrugs her shoulders dramatically. "But probably a foursome would solve a lot of trouble. Quadruple it up." Laughter suffuses her words, and then she sighs, shaking her head. "I'm not going to suggest that to any of them."

Leon smiles as she goes back to thumbing through the photos. She admires one that Eddie captured that shows her in full hairography glory. "Can I get a copy of this one?" She shows him the photo. "It would go good in my portfolio."

Eddie's more serious commentary sends her chin tilting to one side as she loses interest in the camera and instead finds herself admiring the steadiness in his expression, the slight move of his brows, the curve of his mouth when he lays those truths on her. Before she can stop herself, she slides her fingers through his hair along the side of his head, cupping the back of his head gently with those strong, slender fingers. "You don't think dancers are in any imminent danger? We need to do a movie night and watch Center Stage." She gives his head a little nudge with her palm, and then finishes sliding her fingers back through his hair before she goes back to looking at his camera.

"Solve everything or ruin everything. Maybe even odds on which way it goes." Eddie nods slowly, "Which is why it's probably for the best not to suggest it to any of them." He leans over to look at the pictures, nodding readily this time, "Of course. I'll send it over to you as soon as I download them. May be a couple more in there that would also work nicely. I'll send them too."

The touch to his hair and then his scalp is a surprise, drawing a blink from Eddie, and he turns to look into her freckled face looming above him from her seat on the stage. "Pretty sure I'm in imminent danger right now," he teases with a little less lightness that he tries for. His head rolls easily at the nudge, "Movie night and Center Stage, you got it. Are we talking dance fighting like West Side Story or full-on fist-fights?"

"I'm harmless," Leon murmurs to him before she looks back down at the camera, smiling to herself as she thumbs through more of the photos. "These are really good, Eddie." She tilts her head. "I've never looked you up, but... you have to have some kind of award or something. Don't they give those out?" She looks over at him, honestly curious.

Then her nose wrinkles and she smiles, head tilting a bit. "Um. I can't remember. It's been a while. I think there's a fist fight."

"Sure you are," grins Eddie, his voice soft. He shrugs a little helplessly when she compliments his word, and then clears his throat a little when she talks about his past. He nods slowly, perhaps even a little reluctantly, "I won a couple. Some local stuff, one national award. Not The Big One. I did alright." Leaning forward, he skips forward three more pictures to find one of her kicking high through a turn, "That's a really good one. This is a whole lot more chill here. Even with all the magic and stuff. I guess it's a nice change of pace."

"You just have a good eye," but seeing Eddie get a bit uncomfortable with her compliments has her airily adding, "That's all."

When he centers her attention on another of the photos, she has to smile at it. "I look good. Happy." That has her brows furrowing slightly. Then she laughs a bit, shrugging. "Yeah, the magic is weird. Doesn't seem to bother anyone, not even the guests. And no one seems to think it's out of the ordinary." Or at least that's the pall that seems to be settled around the islands. "Must just be something no one's really thought about."

She hands him back his camera, and starts to pull herself up onto the stage. "Do you dance?"

"You do and you do. Some of the dancers, they're really focusing on the footwork. It feels like you get to just let go." Eddie reaches over to boop a fingertip in between her furrowed brows, but takes the camera back without complaint, turning off the stage so that he can look up at her, "It's definitely weird. And it's just here in this one place, which makes it even more weird if you ask me. I think the guests assume that it's all part of the show, all holograms and makeup and all that. Us, well, we should know better. But I don't know if it would help anything to wonder why. Seems like a good way to end up with more questions than answers to me."

He hefts the camera in his hands as he looks up at Leon, "I do the prom shuffle, and once upon a time I learned out to waltz and cha-cha and then promptly forgot. Are you going to tell me that it's super-easy and you can teach me in just five minutes?" There's teasing good humor in his tone alongside the question.

"And you're not in the mood to ask a lot of questions." Leon's smile lifts high at one corner.

She slides her hands into the pockets of her joggers as she shuffles backwards a couple steps only to then turn fully around so she can cross to her stuff to fetch her phone. She laughs at his teasing question, glancing over her shoulder. "It is super easy and I can teach you... maybe not in five minutes. C'mon. What's the worst that can happen? Besides, it'll make you such a prince charming if you know how to waltz, and I know that's on your bucket list."

Phone now in hand, she wanders back toward him as she swipes through her Spotify, hunting down some music. "You wouldn't let me dance by myself, would you?" Now that's a bit of a trick shot.

"If I start asking a lot of questions, then I keep asking questions, and nobody wants that." Eddie's chuckle is self-deprecating and very dry too. The look she gets in response to her claims about learning to dance is dry likewise, but there's a little smile under it, and he moves around to the steps, finding a place just off-stage to set down his camera, "I'm pretty certain I don't ever want to be in front of the camera, Leon, but I appreciate the ambition of your version of my bucket list. I'm also pretty certain that it takes a lot longer than five minutes to learn to waltz. That class was a whole term, after all."

Pointing one finger out to her, he adds, "And point of fact, I absolutely would let you dance by yourself, because you're good at it and you look good doing it. But I will allow," heavy teasing, "a dance lesson." And then a little more seriously, "With my thanks." Stepping out toward the middle of the stage, he holds out his left hand and brings his right hand up closer to dance position, waiting for her decision with the music.

"Who says you have to be a public prince charming?" Now her smile takes on that wolfish edge that she usually reserves for when she's decked out as Rosie. "Or would you prefer to be a public prince charming but something different in private?" The ease in which she flirts is almost disconcerting, after all... she's sure that Eddie has no real interest—or at least a very reserved interest. But she flirts nonetheless.

When he stands ready, Leon actually gives his frame a once over with her hazel eyes, skimming the lines of his shoulders and arms, down to his feet, and then much slower back up to meet his eyes. Her smile lifts up at one corner again. "No music to start. I have a song ready." She steps up closer to him, slipping into parallel with him. She reaches for his right hand, and brings it around so it rests just at the center of her ribs, where the elastic of her sports bra gives him a neat barrier between his fingers and her skin; her own hand then alights on his shoulder. She reaches to take his left her other hand, and checks to make sure they have a nice stable frame.

"So... you took dance in college? Or was this for high school PE credit?"

"I've been reliably told that nice guys finish last," teases Eddie, "at least in bed." The first pass of Leon's gaze is expected, and he straightens up a little, shifting his stance for a little stronger frame -- and perhaps a little tighter too. The slower look back up is met with an arched eyebrow and a little smile at one corner. He is neatly led, and he settles his right hand at her back, feeling the warmth of her recent exercise through that thin material. His left hand joins with her right readily enough, and he does his best to match her frame and stance, "College. I would have taken it in high school if it was offered at any of the schools I went to. When you're always changing schools it's hard to meet people, but dancing makes it easy."

Leon's laughter is bright, but murmured as to not let it echo too far in this space. She looks up at him as she settles their frames together. "Well, it's hard to really say who finishes first or last if you instead focus on running a similar amount of laps."

"Alright," she says thoughtfully, considering this little tidbit that she is sure is not a lie despite their previous lies only clause. "Do you remember which foot you lead with?" She drops her eyes down meaningfully to their feet. She's up a bit on the balls of her feet like she would be if she were wearing modest heels, though part of her wants to stand a bit taller, bring them a bit closer; she resists.

Eddie nods acceptance of Leon's correction, looking down between them at his feet at her question, "Uh... I want to step with..." his right foot starts forward, he steps, and then he shuffles his left foot forward, "I want to say left foot. Because there's a box, right? And it's off to my right, your left. So I'm pretty sure I don't want to be cross-stepping." As he looks back up to Leon's face, so very close to his own even at the expanse of their open dancing position, and he tightens up, shifting closer to her with that partial step.

"Do you like the waltz because it's how you find Prince Charmings, Leon?"

"I'm the Bad Guy," Leon points out. "We never get find Prince Charming, or if we do, we never get to keep him."

Then her chin drops down to look at their feet even if Eddie has tightened up his frame, bringing her closer to him—or him closer to her. She's not entirely sure now that she is a partial step closer to the photographer. "Okay. You're right, like a box." She looks back up at him. "Step toward me with your left, and I step away from your foot with your right. Dancing is all about driving my steps... though if I was leading, you would think of it more like... chasing me. So, you step forward with your left," she waits for him to step, and once he does, she steps back with her right, keeping their feet an equal distance apart. Her trunk stays upright, so that he is advancing into her space in this slowed down version. "Now, you step out with your right to make the second corner of the box, so forward and a bit to your right" and she nods down to her feet, "and I step opposite."

"You play the bad guy, Leon. You're definitely Princess Charming material." Eddie's brows rise as Leon equates the dance steps to chasing her, chuckling softly. He steps toward her, leaving their bodies very close with his left foot advanced and hers still by his right foot. There's a little extraneous twist to his torso from the slowed-down step. "Out with my right..." he goes directly right and forward, a diagonal step without the sweep of a proper waltz. "I feel like I remember bouncing or something." Licking his lips, he shifts the hand at her back, aware that his pulse has kicked up and he can almost hear it in his ears. "Or am I getting ahead of myself?"

"If you say so."

Leon moves with Eddie, sensing his step before he takes it so the two move through that waltz step together. "Let's not get fancy," she murmurs when he mentions a bounce. "Bring your left to your right to complete the line between the two corners." There's a touch of huskiness to her words as they move together, but she tries to keep her own skittering pulse under control. She moves with him so their feet are always together, no more than a half step apart. "Now think backwards. Back with your right," and she immediately chases him in turn. "Out and back with your left. And then we're back at the beginning." She lifts her eyes to meet his. "You chase me, I chase you, we end up back where we started."

No metaphor there. Nope.

"Pretty sure I don't do fancy, Leon." But Eddie is distracted from talking by the step, "Backwards, got it." He manages the first step, and then comes across again, and leaves himself standing before Leon again, "Forward, side, together, back, side, together. I can totally do that." Theoretically. Without music. With her guiding him through the steps.

"Sounds like the world sometimes, doesn't it." Eddie's forearm lays along Leon's back now, bringing them from open dance position to closed dance position without him really intending to. "Also pretty sure there were under-arm passes, twirls, and promenades back in college. But that's getting the fancy that I don't, isn't it?"

Where Eddie's forearm brushes across her freckled skin, her nerves sing; it only makes her heart give a little flutter in her chest and sends a bit of heat into Leon's cheeks. "We can get there," she breathes out between them as she finds herself closer and closer. She takes in a breath. "Ready to do a few sets in a row? If you're feeling bold, you can turn us a bit when we step. Or we can stay in this nice little box."

She waits for him to take the first step, reading to follow with little nudges and hints if he needs the help to move through the box at least three times. She shortens her steps to keep them close together; she finds her own hand sliding back across his neck, fingers curling up against the little whispers of hair at the back of his neck.

Eddie licks his lips once more as they settle in closer together, "Uh... let's just stay nice and safe in the box now. Maybe if I manage to keep stepping right, you can back-lead us around the stage a little." He manages one box, but on the second, he tries to step forward again and she has to correct him. The third works well enough, and then his steps trail off into something much closer to a prom shuffle, the touch of her fingertips to the back of the neck blurring his mind and swaddling everything in cotton.

He drifts there a moment, and then clears his throat, "Sorry. I think I lost the step there a little." Maybe he lets out an inch, perhaps two, between them, but not nearly enough to break the touch of her fingers at the nape of his neck, nor the brush of his forearm along her back.

"Okay. Safe in the box."

When Eddie missteps, Leon gently corrects; when they settle into a gentle shuffling, she lets him take this moment pause. Perhaps it is the way his skin moves against hers, or the change in his breath when she touches his neck, but she doesn't mind the slight pause to the dance lesson. Then he clears her throat, and she brightens with a smile. "You're okay. I don't mind. Would music help?" She tilts her head as she gently pulls him into the next box, taking his time.

Eddie looks down between them, leaning back just a little so he can actually watch his steps again. "I don't know. It could hurt, but it could help." He walks through two boxes, and then straightens up to close the distance more naturally again. "Let's give it a try, and we'll see if I can get past the Princess Charming aura and actually focus on what my feet are doing." The bright and crooked smile that spreads across his features lightens the words, and his fingers rub gently at her back before stilling again so that he can focus on the waltz-step.

Leon's laughter is soft, and she nods. While his hand rubs at her back, her fingers release his so she can dig into the pocket of her jogger for her phone. Unconsciously, she drifts a couple centimeters closer to him while she drops her attention to her phone to swipe it open. It doesn't immediately unlock, and she sighs impatiently as she tries to get the camera to recognize her face. Then she taps through to where she bookmarked the song, and hits play. A man's warm voice starts, joining with a violin as it adds the ba-ba-ba-da-ba that is the recognizable start of Kiss From a Rose by Seal.

She slips her phone back in her pocket so the music will travel with them, and she looks up to meet his eyes again as her hand returns to collect his own. "Listen for the beat first."

Eddie drops his left hand when Leon goes for her phone, tilting her head slightly at the trouble with the unlock. He stands shoulder-to-shoulder with her, feet still shuffling as he tries to keep to the beat in his head even as she's digging out the song. "So many costume changes your phone doesn't even recognize you, wow." There's a pause as a question and a concern build behind his eyes, but then the music is playing and he chuckles. Softly, he sings along with, "Ba-da-ba-da-da-da-da..."

But listening to Leon, he focuses on the beat, hesitant for a moment before the 1-2-3 really kicks in. Taking up her hand, he draws in a breath and lets it out slowly, "Okay then..." his head bobs to the beat for a three-count, another, and then he steps forward, remembering left foot first, and gets through a box unscathed.

"Real beast," Leon's reply is totally instinctive. She's too caught-up watching Eddie as he sinks into the dance. She smiles as she waits, letting him decide when to step forward, and she immediately steps with him in beautiful symmetry. She lets him lead, but she is always secretly ready to take over, and when its her turn to chase, she does so with some need in that forward step.

When he takes his next step, she gently angles them into a half turn to pull their box a bit to the right. She smiles up at him as she lets him move through the box. She casts a glance aside, almost demurely before her eyes lift back up to meet his.

"Are not," Eddie manages to shoot back with a grin. That first step is all that he leads, otherwise focusing entirely on his footing. Unfortunately, he misses a great deal of the silent flirting with his eyes cut down to make sure he's not stepping on Leon's toes. He doesn't even notice when she smoothly twists them into a slowly-spinning, lightly-traveling step.

As Seal continues singing and the music swells, those quick steps seem to settle into Eddie, and he feels like he's dancing on a cloud, looking up to Leon's face just in time to catch her turning her eyes back to him. And then he stumbles, trying to step with his right when he should be stepping with his left, and nearly tangling his steps up. Rather than get frustrated, however, he clings to Leon, chuckling softly. "I don't think I'm ready for prime time yet, Leon."

He stumbles, and her hand goes flat against the back of his neck rather than tracing up to his hairline as if to steady him. She's laughing, breathless as they settle together without driving into another box step. She smiles up at him, and shrugs a shoulder. "Maybe not... but I did get you dancing. Maybe not in five minutes, but close." Not that close, but time is passing strangely while on this stage.

She licks at her lower lip, becoming more conscious again of his arm against her back and the closeness of their steps. The heat between their frames is terribly palpable, and she has to take a steadying breath to keep it from igniting between them. She gives her chin a little lift. "We can settle into a shuffle for now."

"You did get me dancing," Eddie agrees easily. He draws in a slow breath himself and lets it out even slower, just about to step forward again when she makes her suggestion. "Okay. That sounds good, Leon." Evidently he's had enough stumbling around with box-steps for now. The relaxation from waltz to prom shuffle does allow him to collapse his frame a little, keeping his right arm close in and letting his left sag down with her right until it's just off their side rather than held out formally. His prom shuffle has a literal shuffle step to it, a little sway of the hips side to side with the sweep and swirl of the song. "So you successfully eased me out onto the dance floor. What's next? Besides Center Stage?"

Leon's smile lifts a touch higher when he relaxes into the shuffle, and she curls her hand further around his shoulders, draping off his neck to instead cup one of his shoulder blades. She's too close, and she tries not to think how they brush together with each shuffling sway. She at least tries to keep him on his toes as she turns them slowly, keeping the dance floor moving beneath their feet. The music still plays in her pocket, the song apparently set to repeat. Seal's soulful voice is a lovely backdrop.

"I don't know," she admits. "I try not to think too far ahead with you. Pinball, dinner, dancing, movie night. You'll spook if I look too far in the future." She should let that linger, give him time to rebuff her... or not. But she doesn't want to give him the space to potentially end this dance, to leave the stage.

"I never went to prom. Oldest kid, got stuck babysitting that night."

Without steps to worry about, Eddie has no problems turning about, first one way, and then the other. He can even manage a little traveling, their shuffling steps moving them across the stage. It lets him enjoy the closeness of the woman, the strength of her frame, and the sound of her voice. It's a little shoot drifting up from a long-dead crevice inside him, a little greenery in a ruined landscape, and his fingers tighten with hers for a moment.

"Probably," he admits to her not-quite-lingering statement, then nods at her bit of truth, "I went to two at two different schools." Which doesn't fit at all with the lies about his background that he's told at her request, and he offers up a quirk of a smile, "Both in same tiny town. Very complex social structure. How old are your siblings?"

Her brows lift a little bit at his own truth. Then she starts to smile, one side a bit higher than the other—lopsided and amused. "You went to two proms? Did you wear the same suit?" Her brows furrow thoughtfully. "What color was your tie?" That seems really important to her as the hand that had been gently cupping his shoulder slips back down to press gently against his chest where his tie would rest. "Green?" It's a guess, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Then she tips her chin. "Her school's prom, and then your school's prom?"

Then she shakes her head, shuffling with him several more steps. Oh, each little traveling turn brings her closer to him, hips and legs becoming more and more intertwined as they move. "I have six." She smiles up at him ruefully. "August the youngest, and he's twelve. Then there's Roderick, Madeline, the twins who just turned twenty-four. Rowena is nineteen, Camilla is seventeen, and Alexandra is fifteen." It might take Eddie a second, but all of the children's names are variations (or duplicates in the case of Roderick, Madeline, and Rowena) of characters from Edgar Allen Poe.

Eddie does his best to follow along with the questions, a frown of concentration building between his brows as he does, "Yes. No. Black; a bow-tie. No. And no." He pauses a moment to track back over her questions and his answers, nodding to himself as they dance closer and closer. There is definitely no room for the Holy Ghost between them now. "Rental tux in two different cities." That might actually be truth, but then he calls back to the lies-only game, "If I rented twice from the same shop in such a small town," assuming a small town had a tux shop, "they would have known. Junior and Senior year. I moved around a lot, but I was dating a Senior before I moved."

Now Eddie has to draw his head back a little to get a clear view of the freckle-spattered canvas of Leon's face, which he does as he works his way through the family structure, "You are the oldest of six, at least thirteen years apart, from a big family -- but not religious, I think? -- with at least one parent who either teaches literature classes or is a goth."

"Older girl? You rogue." But Leon just looks amused. "You'd look good in a green tie. Dark green, but not that really rich dark green. Something almost smoky... like jade or moss." Her fingers slide down his sternum like she's imagining its fall, and then her hand lifts to return to the back of his neck with a little graze of the edge of her thumb nail. The problem with a professional dancer being fitted so close to her partner is that her body starts moving in ways that is not just a shuffle. Her thigh presses against his along the same smooth line as her hip is pressed and her chest. It's a liquid feel how her frame moves against his as well as with his. She's not even aware of how close they are—or at least most of her isn't.

"Mom's family is really religious. Excommunicated Mormon, though I don't think that's the actual term. Dad stole her away from the Church, if you asked my grandparents, which you can't, because they haven't spoken to anyone in my family since my parents got married." She tilts her head slightly. "Still a believer though, Mom. She just... does it her own way." She shrugs a shoulder. "She liked having lots of siblings... Dad didn't mind having lots of kids. Worked out."

Though there's an weight behind the steadiness of her words, and her eyes drop a moment before lifting back to meet his again. "My life was never really mine."

Eddie shrugs a little helplessly at the amused compli-sult, and then smiles gently along with the compliments that follow, the warmth of her body melding against his own a soporific counterpoint to the scorching line left by her fingers down his sternum and the nail at his neck. But there's a part of his brain that is filing away details, oddly similar to the part that was already composing captions and setting up shots while under fire. His brows lift at the first revelation, and then follows along with the story.

But there's no opportunity to respond, to ask for more, to dig further, before she drops her gaze and lifts it back up again. He draws in a slow breath against her chest, letting the weight of her words settle onto his shoulders as well. Slowly, he nods, accepting the statement, sitting with it, trying it on his own shoulders. "Because you had to look out for them all the time. They defined what you did because they needed it more." There's a little question there, but only a little. "I can understand that a little." His brow brushes against hers for a moment as they turn in small circles, now one direction and then the other, on that otherwise-deserted stage. "It's yours now, isn't it?"

"... Yeah," Leonora's head turns slightly, but not enough to upset the brush of his brow against her own. "You got it. Wow, felt like it took my dad years to figure that out." She offers him a half-smile as they continue their slow parade around the stage. "It's why I didn't go where they wanted me to go after high school, how I ended up in LA."

His question does leave her thinking for a long moment—thinking too much maybe. She sighs out a breath after a moment, and in that moment, she becomes painfully aware of how close his mouth is to hers. Her eyes flicker downward briefly, and then back up to meet his. "Yes." Beat. "Eddie? If I kissed you right now, would you spook? You're just... so close, and I... have been thinking about how your mouth might taste for a few days. Like Tabasco, I think... maybe." She seems to have fallen under a rambling spell, because she might just keep talking if he doesn't interrupt her.

"He was a little close to the problem, wasn't he?" Not that Eddie isn't more than a little close to it right now. She starts to ramble, and his smile lifts from the soft thing that had gathered at the corners of his lips, brightening his brown eyes. It wouldn't be so bad, would it? It's a thought that flickers though his mind, a desperate, flailing grasp for happiness and stability, and just like that, another part of his mind sees it as too many hands grabbing onto a single life-ring, dragging it under, and that brightness fades a little, his eyes dropping away.

"I'd like it, Leon, but..." he has to get that word out before he licks his lips, a grimace flickering over his features as his steps trail to a halt. He doesn't withdraw, one warring part of him exulting in the warmth of Leon's body close against him, of her bright and shining attraction so very close within reach -- and the other tightening his shoulders, curling his fingers at her back and around her hand clasped in his, "that wouldn't be fair to you. You play the villain so well, but you're this bright, gleaming... goodness. Wholesomeness. I can't... I can't drag you down where I am, Leon. I couldn't do that to you."

"Oh." The word is soft, said on a quick exhale that seems to steal the rest of her breath. Her throat tightens around a little lump there, and she blinks rapidly to clear the bit of fog that had settled around her brain. When she inhales next, she's straightening up away from him and finally there's a prickle of coolness as the space opens between their frames. "Yeah. Right." All those words seem to fit, and there's even a little breathy laughter there that also should make it all okay. She has to stop herself from breathing in too hard, like she's not sure there's anything left in her chest except fragments. Gaping, empty.

Then then embarrassment settles in, and she recoils her hand off his neck and takes a bigger step back. "You're right." He is? "That wouldn't be fair." It wouldn't? She rubs her hand across her brow, and her fingers are slightly shaking. "Sorry. I thought—" Then she shakes her head, lips pressed together, and a mirthless smile filling her cheeks. "Doesn't matter." She starts to turn away from him, her feet moving unconsciously beneath her.

The pain that he can hear under her words, that he can see in how she holds herself, how she recoils from him -- he can't even not hurt her without hurting her. Eddie drops his gaze, his eyes squeezing closed. His hand trails off her side, grazes her elbow, and he feels the absurd desire to apologize for the touch, when they had just been nestled so wonderfully close. He can still feel the memory of that warmth, the lingering softness and strength of her frame, and he lets the breath out of his lungs with a sigh, only to have them draw in another breath.

Glancing aside to Leon, he gives a little shake to his head, "I mean, it kind of does matter, because it's you," and me, but that part goes unsaid, perhaps even unthought. "I wish I was the guy you want me to be." He looks back down to his hands, no longer touching her skin, no longer feeling her warmth, and he folds them in on each other at his waist for a moment before shoving them in his pockets. "Because I can see you and him... I could see them happy. And I'm jealous."

Her back is to him through this entire moment as she had kept turning away. She's looking down at the palms of her hands, staring at them like there's some clue to how she should respond written in the lines and folds of her skin. Her brows tighten as something he says actually strikes her oddly, and she looks up a bit without fully turning around. "You don't even know who I want you to be."

Then she licks her lips and keeps walking away—or at least that's the plan. She's got another step under her before she turns suddenly and retraces her steps with that graceful lunge that closes the distance between them again. One hand catches his shoulder while the other comes up to scoop past his ear into his hair. He's given one heartbeat of warning before her mouth is pressed against his, stealing the taste she had asked for with a quick, sudden need. Then, almost like the kiss stings her lips, she tries to step suddenly backwards, fingers at her mouth and her eyes wide at her own boldness. If being rejected had her flushing with embarrassment, this has her skin on fire.

"I-I'm sorry," she stutters out, looking like she's about to flee. At a run.

Eddie has actually started to close that distance even as Leon starts to walk away, reaching out for her hand with a gentle grip. But then she's closed that distance, and no matter what he said, he kisses her back.

More than that, he kisses her back fiercely, with a blaze behind the slow movement of his lips on hers. One hand finds her forearm, gently pulling on it to draw her hand from his shoulder and into his hand, and the other hand finds her pulled-back hair, stroking gently along it. When she steps backwards, his eyes are still closed, and he licks his lips like a parched man who just tasted sweet cold water. Finally, he opens his eyes, a little smile playing across his still-warm lips. "I'm not."

Leon's heart is pounding so hard in her ears, she's sure she misheard him. She even looks confused, brows frowning tight together, fingers still pressed to her own lips like the kiss had seared her mouth. She looks at him for a long, silent moment through a single spring of loosened curl even as his hand has found the rest of the gathered mass of dark waves. She hesitates, studying first his newly opened eyes, and then dropping her gaze to his smiling lips. With her eyes still open, she takes a cautious, shuffling step forward as her fingers slide off her lips; with her eyes still open, she leans in toward him.

This time the kiss is slow—agonizingly slow. Her eyes stay open only a heartbeat longer, and then they slip close.

Eddie is just gathering himself for a slow, sad retreat back into himself, already starting to loose Leon's fingers -- and she steps forward, closes that distance once more. Again, he doesn't run. Again he does a great deal more than just not retreat. Despite his words, there's clearly still a large part of him that wants nothing more than to give her whatever broken pieces of him remain. His fingers at those gathered, breaking waves of dark hair curl around further, to the back of her head, and he leans in closer, so that their bodies come together from thighs to where he has to turn his head to maintain the excruciatingly -- ecstatically -- slow pull and play of their lips. His dark eyes shutter as well, and he loses himself in the kiss as readily as he lost himself in the dance.

It might be minutes later, it might be seconds later, it might be years later when he lifts his head and draws back just a heartbeat, where he can still taste her breath. He has to clear his throat before he can even murmur a thick, rusty, "Thank you."

Leon comes back to a place where she solely occupies her own body even if Eddie's is blissfully pressed to hers. She still feels like she's floating, but slowly tiptoeing back down into herself, anchoring into the frame of muscle, sinew, and bone. She's surprised she's not actually breathless, though her inhale is a bit shaky when she finally takes it. She's looking at him as if she hadn't closed her eyes for the length of the kiss, and when he clears his throat and finally speaks, color flushes her cheeks with a sudden, giddy delight. "You're welcome," she murmurs back just as huskily.

Then she ducks her chin a bit, taking a small, more shuffling step backwards. "Okay." She's not sure what else to say. "I... I should go." That is probably not what she should have randomly settled on. She closes her eyes suddenly, brows flinching slightly. "I mean, I... I should..."

It's a tragedy to have to let his fingers slip away from Leon's dark hair, onto her jawline -- it's a relief to not inflict that on her anymore. Eddie sinks back into himself, his hand leaving hers and curling in at his stomach even while the other hand still lingers at the corner of her jaw. She retreats a little more, and his fingers tighten on his shirt, drop away from her skin. "Okay." There's resignation and relief and reluctance all mixed up together in that simple word. She flinches, he smiles a little sadly. "I'll send you those shots." The pictures he took earlier. His voice catches in his throat once, and then -- mostly -- steadies, "And we can plan to watch Center Stage."

"Thanks," Leon again feels like that's not the word she was supposed to say. She stands there, both of them now in their own bubbles, even if it would take the smallest lift of her fingers to find his again; she doesn't, though. She will stay awake all night tonight worried that, that was the moment she ruined it. She stands there instead, feeling the weight of her own anxiety settle into her gut. There's a good chance she'd still be standing there, staring at Eddie, no idea what to do.

Instead she sucks in a tight breath, and nods. "Tree lighting tomorrow. Guess you'll be there." Her words are coming out too fast, but she can't seem to remember how to slow them down. He wouldn't recognize the panic, would he? She would hate for him to see that—a sudden spiraling out, like catching black ice and spinning around and around and around—

"I have Thursday off." She's moving suddenly, almost jolting into action so she can quickly grab her bag. She's swinging it up over her shoulder as she seems to be rushing for the stairs down from the stage. "Thursday night," she calls over her shoulder.

Eddie can feel the nerves, can feel the anxiety. It's a familiar feeling. But right now he's feeling torn inside, the exhilaration of the kiss and the lasting heat of the dance warring with his own disappointment and anger with himself for letting it happen, for pulling her down to him and splashing her with his own problems. Neither feeling is completely tethered in reality. "Yeah. Pictures." It's flat, it's lame, and he knows it. He also knows that there's no camera in his hands, no lens to protect him, to hide behind. He glances around, spots it just off-stage, and by then, Leon is already on the stairs down, and his gaze falls, acceptance weighing down the exhilaration and bringing it down to the disappointment and anger.

"Thursday is a good day. I'm 8-5." And she's fleeing. Running away from the kisses, from him. His shoulders slump, and he starts toward the wings, where his camera waits. "Stay warm, Leon."

"I'll text you," is her parting goodbye as she ducks past the bleachers of the practice stage and disappears out of sight.