UsernameEmailRegionInterestAOL IMICQ IDYahoo! IDMSN IDJabber

Knowing that she was on his side, that she shared in the loss as much as the win, did wonders for his snarling temperament. Winning the Cup or losing it mattered, a lot, because it was his livelihood. But Drystan considered himself fortunate enough to be in a position to be shown it just didn't matter the most out of everything in his life. Some people—some teammates, he knew—might go their whole lives never knowing the subtle distinction.

"Just considering my options," he said freely, busy fingers drawing lazy circles between her shoulders. As good as being on the dance floor, he was content to keep his arms close around her while his gaze slid from one corner of the ballroom to the other, taking in the sights, the sounds, the celebrations. The trophy in its place of honour on the stage behind the band only gave him the briefest of tinges. "The alcove at the other end of the lobby."

Nodding and lifting one hand to greet a passing acquaintance, his free one skimmed two fingers considerably lower down her back. In casual observation of the decorations, he scoped out the ceiling, the wall sconces, the small effects no party-goer gave much thought to, and wondered at the attention to detail of the planning committee. Knowing after the last guest cleared out that it would all be dismantled in the blink of an eye made it that much more appreciable. "There was that out-of-service lift…"

Now with his left hand resting comfortably on her hip, the other was free to trek up the smooth protrusion of her shoulder blade, down, to the side, tracing the collar bone graced by yellow and diamond. "Then," Drystan mused in consideration, flipping his hand so the knuckles drifted smoothly down her breastbone, drawing away before they met her neckline, "the entirety of the second, third, and fourth floors…"

Easing back a step, his other hand fell to her waist too, holding it in a light grip as he gave her a rare, easy smile. "It's a big decision."