antivanruffles (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
antivanruffles) wrote2012-12-16 03:25 pm
antivanruffles) wrote2012-12-16 03:25 pm
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DANCE... DANCE... DAAAANCE! Part Seven
BECAUSE I NEED NEVEN OKAY!? Previous warnings apply... but moreso now, because Neph and Mako believe in swearing, okay? :P
(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six)
Teaching tap to a group of unruly children was not how Zander had expected his day to go. Though he had to admit it was very enjoyable. They were so full of energy, so excited to learn. A few were there merely to make noise, but he couldn’t really fault them for that, it was rather fun.
He decided to take a quick break before his junior ballroom class in the afternoon -- the kids had been fun, but tiring. Zander decided to sneak back to the room Jaden and Ramona were in, hoping he might catch Ramona throwing a shoe at Jaden’s head. It was only a matter of time, after all.
Passing by one of the unused practice rooms, he realized it wasn’t as deserted as he first thought. Backtracking he peered through the door, and found Miss Adelaide practicing footwork in front of the mirrors. She was dressed similarly to the other day; a dark skirt, blouse and cardigan. She had on the same pair of black practice shoes, and he smiled, walking into the room.
Miss Adelaide was very intent on her footwork, her head down as she counted out a grapevine step. Her hands were held up, shoulder level, gripping an imaginary partner. She had her shoulders back and down, like he had said, and her neck was long even as her eyes were focused on her feet.
“Very good frame,” he said softly, coming to a stop behind her. She gasped and whirled around, eyes wide and cheeks darkening in a blush.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” She asked harshly, then shook her head. “I mean, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Zander grinned widely, teeth showing, and brushed back a few stray curls. “You must have a wonderful teacher.”
Adelaide pressed her lips together, trying not to smile, and rolled her eyes. “He’s fine, I suppose.”
“Let me guess? He’s a bit of a show off?” Zander grabbed her hand, twirling her out before pulling her back in, close.
Held so closely, her eyes seemed so clear, so blue, and he could see himself reflected in them. He smiled at her, watching how her fair cheeks flushed crimson. The blush seemed to go all the way down her smooth neck, dipping below the collar of her blouse.
Adelaide cleared her throat and pulled back, brushing his hand away. “Are you always so… familiar with your students?” she asked, straightening her shirt.
Zander laughed lightly, which seemed to make her blush deepen even more. “Nah, love, that’s a standard hold. Trust me, you’d know if I was being, uh, familiar.” He continued to grin at her and held out his hand.
“I won’t bite, promise.” He wiggled his fingers, inviting her. Eyeing it as if it were a dangerous animal ready to snap at her, Adelaide delicately laid her hand in his.
“You need to relax is all,” he told her as he drew into closed position. “Dance is a lot about performance, you act the part.” He pulled her closer again for a waltz. “You’ll have to get used to it, just be glad this isn’t Latin dance…. I’m afraid you might self-combust if you had to try a Rumba.”
Adelaide pursed her lips, brow darkening in annoyance. “Yes, well. That’s all fine. Thank you. I’ll continue practicing on my own.” She pulled away and turned her back.
“Alright, have fun then. I’ll see you next class.” He turned to leave, but Adelaide’s soft voice stopped him.
“Perhaps,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.
Zander turned back, eyebrows lifted. “I thought you didn’t give up easily?”
She turned startled eyes on him, then straightened; throwing her shoulders back and lifting her head haughtily. “I don’t.”
“Good,“ he nodded with a smile. “Then I’ll see you next class.”
***
Six days after the big announcement -- five days of training with Anton and Mina-- Kam stood on the main floor of studio. The area was wide and open, various halls leading off to private rooms, there was a reception desk by the door that stood empty in the early hours. The back wall was lined with mirrors and practice bars, and the hardwood floors were scuffed and marred from various heels and tap shoes clicking across it.
Everything was quiet before opening, peaceful and tranquil -- it was a private time Kam loved, and something he was in great need of. It was a time for him to work on choreography uninterrupted. As he planned out a pattern in his mind before attempting it in reality, he was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of the front door opening. Uneven footsteps fell against the floor, punctuated by a hallow thump.
“I’m sorry we--” As Kam turned around the words died on his lips. Making his slow way into the building was Neven Veremchuk. His hair fell around his shoulders in an wave; once it had been glossy and immaculate, but now it was an unkempt mess in great need of combing. His face was covered in a bushy beard that probably hadn’t been trimmed since it started growing. His brown eyes were narrowed coldly as he marched up to Kam.
“Neven, good to see you,” Kam said slowly, wondering how the Ukrainian had made it on a plane when he looked like a reprobate.
Neven stopped in front of Kam, his right leg straightened slightly, all of his weight on his left foot and cane. His eyes looked slightly pinched and his lips were a thin line, which Kam knew meant he was in great pain merely standing there.
“Would you like to have a seat….?”
“No, I am here for a moment.” Neven’s voice was a deep, gravelly growl. “Here.” He held out an envelope, slightly bulging.
“What’s that?” Kam arched an eyebrow dubiously, but took it from Neven nonetheless.
“Considerate it partial payment for what I owe you. I will not be coaching.” He turned to leave but Kam stopped him with a loud snort.
“I hope this was earned legitimately. I’m not taking dirty or laundered money, Neven.”
“I earned it by working, that all you need know,” Neven said over his shoulder, then started walking again.
“So that’s really it? You’re going to come all the way here just to give me some money?”
Neven turned to look at Kam, eyes cold. “I will not be a coach. I will not play babysitter to Dmitri. And I will certainly not be a choreographer. Ever. You can take that,” he nodded to the parcel in Kam’s hand. “I will get you the rest when I can, then we will be even.”
“Fine, be like that. Be a stubborn bastard! But I’m done playing nice. You and I both know you owe me a fair bit more than some damned Euro!” He waved the envelope. “I’m in debt now, might lose the studio and my business, all because I fronted a lot of money for you. Not to mention I risked my neck to save your stupid ass. You owe me.”
“Using guilt to get what you want? I thought you were above that?” One thick, ruddy brow shot up accusingly.
“Normally, yes, but not this time.”
They stood watching each other, Kam full of righteousness and Neven full of anger. Neither one backed down in their staring contest -- pale, jade green to deep, nut brown.
Finally Neven looked away, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly through his nose. He let loose a string of Ukrainian so viciously, that Kam had to assume he was cursing him to hell and back.
“I hate when you rant and I can’t understand you,” Kam said mildly.
“You are a bastard,” Neven growled.
“But you’ll be staying?”
“Yes, I’ll stay!” he spat, heading toward the entrance. Before he got out the door he added another barked ‘bastard’ over his shoulder, and nearly crashed into the person who had just arrived at the studio.
“OI! Watch where ya goin’!” The young woman shouted. Her accent was thick, elongating her vowels, rounding them. She brushed back glossy brown curls, glaring up at Neven. He scowled at her, refusing to offer up any form of apology.
Sighing, Neven brushed past her, his shoulder knocking hers and his cane nearly missing her toe in the process.
“Wot’cha fink ya doin’, ya twat!?” she called after him, fists balled at her side. He continued onto the street as if he hadn’t heard her. Kam moved toward the girl’s side and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Leave him, Maggie, he’s just being an ass right now.”
“Ya know him?” She looked up at Kam, blinking emerald colored eyes in confusion.
“That’s Dmitri’s brother, Neven…. your new coach.”
“No!” she gasp, dragging out the word into several syllables.
Kam nodded slowly, “I’m afraid so, but he isn’t so bad once you get to know him.” He glanced out the door, then caught Maggie’s eye. “I hope.”
----
If you're wondering... Maggie is a bit Chav and this is her voice/accent PB RIGHT HERE!
Expect lots of swearing and use of "fook" instead of "fuck." TRA LA LA ! Also word count is over 11K now and I don't know what's going on. ACK!
(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six)
Teaching tap to a group of unruly children was not how Zander had expected his day to go. Though he had to admit it was very enjoyable. They were so full of energy, so excited to learn. A few were there merely to make noise, but he couldn’t really fault them for that, it was rather fun.
He decided to take a quick break before his junior ballroom class in the afternoon -- the kids had been fun, but tiring. Zander decided to sneak back to the room Jaden and Ramona were in, hoping he might catch Ramona throwing a shoe at Jaden’s head. It was only a matter of time, after all.
Passing by one of the unused practice rooms, he realized it wasn’t as deserted as he first thought. Backtracking he peered through the door, and found Miss Adelaide practicing footwork in front of the mirrors. She was dressed similarly to the other day; a dark skirt, blouse and cardigan. She had on the same pair of black practice shoes, and he smiled, walking into the room.
Miss Adelaide was very intent on her footwork, her head down as she counted out a grapevine step. Her hands were held up, shoulder level, gripping an imaginary partner. She had her shoulders back and down, like he had said, and her neck was long even as her eyes were focused on her feet.
“Very good frame,” he said softly, coming to a stop behind her. She gasped and whirled around, eyes wide and cheeks darkening in a blush.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” She asked harshly, then shook her head. “I mean, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Zander grinned widely, teeth showing, and brushed back a few stray curls. “You must have a wonderful teacher.”
Adelaide pressed her lips together, trying not to smile, and rolled her eyes. “He’s fine, I suppose.”
“Let me guess? He’s a bit of a show off?” Zander grabbed her hand, twirling her out before pulling her back in, close.
Held so closely, her eyes seemed so clear, so blue, and he could see himself reflected in them. He smiled at her, watching how her fair cheeks flushed crimson. The blush seemed to go all the way down her smooth neck, dipping below the collar of her blouse.
Adelaide cleared her throat and pulled back, brushing his hand away. “Are you always so… familiar with your students?” she asked, straightening her shirt.
Zander laughed lightly, which seemed to make her blush deepen even more. “Nah, love, that’s a standard hold. Trust me, you’d know if I was being, uh, familiar.” He continued to grin at her and held out his hand.
“I won’t bite, promise.” He wiggled his fingers, inviting her. Eyeing it as if it were a dangerous animal ready to snap at her, Adelaide delicately laid her hand in his.
“You need to relax is all,” he told her as he drew into closed position. “Dance is a lot about performance, you act the part.” He pulled her closer again for a waltz. “You’ll have to get used to it, just be glad this isn’t Latin dance…. I’m afraid you might self-combust if you had to try a Rumba.”
Adelaide pursed her lips, brow darkening in annoyance. “Yes, well. That’s all fine. Thank you. I’ll continue practicing on my own.” She pulled away and turned her back.
“Alright, have fun then. I’ll see you next class.” He turned to leave, but Adelaide’s soft voice stopped him.
“Perhaps,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.
Zander turned back, eyebrows lifted. “I thought you didn’t give up easily?”
She turned startled eyes on him, then straightened; throwing her shoulders back and lifting her head haughtily. “I don’t.”
“Good,“ he nodded with a smile. “Then I’ll see you next class.”
***
Six days after the big announcement -- five days of training with Anton and Mina-- Kam stood on the main floor of studio. The area was wide and open, various halls leading off to private rooms, there was a reception desk by the door that stood empty in the early hours. The back wall was lined with mirrors and practice bars, and the hardwood floors were scuffed and marred from various heels and tap shoes clicking across it.
Everything was quiet before opening, peaceful and tranquil -- it was a private time Kam loved, and something he was in great need of. It was a time for him to work on choreography uninterrupted. As he planned out a pattern in his mind before attempting it in reality, he was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of the front door opening. Uneven footsteps fell against the floor, punctuated by a hallow thump.
“I’m sorry we--” As Kam turned around the words died on his lips. Making his slow way into the building was Neven Veremchuk. His hair fell around his shoulders in an wave; once it had been glossy and immaculate, but now it was an unkempt mess in great need of combing. His face was covered in a bushy beard that probably hadn’t been trimmed since it started growing. His brown eyes were narrowed coldly as he marched up to Kam.
“Neven, good to see you,” Kam said slowly, wondering how the Ukrainian had made it on a plane when he looked like a reprobate.
Neven stopped in front of Kam, his right leg straightened slightly, all of his weight on his left foot and cane. His eyes looked slightly pinched and his lips were a thin line, which Kam knew meant he was in great pain merely standing there.
“Would you like to have a seat….?”
“No, I am here for a moment.” Neven’s voice was a deep, gravelly growl. “Here.” He held out an envelope, slightly bulging.
“What’s that?” Kam arched an eyebrow dubiously, but took it from Neven nonetheless.
“Considerate it partial payment for what I owe you. I will not be coaching.” He turned to leave but Kam stopped him with a loud snort.
“I hope this was earned legitimately. I’m not taking dirty or laundered money, Neven.”
“I earned it by working, that all you need know,” Neven said over his shoulder, then started walking again.
“So that’s really it? You’re going to come all the way here just to give me some money?”
Neven turned to look at Kam, eyes cold. “I will not be a coach. I will not play babysitter to Dmitri. And I will certainly not be a choreographer. Ever. You can take that,” he nodded to the parcel in Kam’s hand. “I will get you the rest when I can, then we will be even.”
“Fine, be like that. Be a stubborn bastard! But I’m done playing nice. You and I both know you owe me a fair bit more than some damned Euro!” He waved the envelope. “I’m in debt now, might lose the studio and my business, all because I fronted a lot of money for you. Not to mention I risked my neck to save your stupid ass. You owe me.”
“Using guilt to get what you want? I thought you were above that?” One thick, ruddy brow shot up accusingly.
“Normally, yes, but not this time.”
They stood watching each other, Kam full of righteousness and Neven full of anger. Neither one backed down in their staring contest -- pale, jade green to deep, nut brown.
Finally Neven looked away, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly through his nose. He let loose a string of Ukrainian so viciously, that Kam had to assume he was cursing him to hell and back.
“I hate when you rant and I can’t understand you,” Kam said mildly.
“You are a bastard,” Neven growled.
“But you’ll be staying?”
“Yes, I’ll stay!” he spat, heading toward the entrance. Before he got out the door he added another barked ‘bastard’ over his shoulder, and nearly crashed into the person who had just arrived at the studio.
“OI! Watch where ya goin’!” The young woman shouted. Her accent was thick, elongating her vowels, rounding them. She brushed back glossy brown curls, glaring up at Neven. He scowled at her, refusing to offer up any form of apology.
Sighing, Neven brushed past her, his shoulder knocking hers and his cane nearly missing her toe in the process.
“Wot’cha fink ya doin’, ya twat!?” she called after him, fists balled at her side. He continued onto the street as if he hadn’t heard her. Kam moved toward the girl’s side and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Leave him, Maggie, he’s just being an ass right now.”
“Ya know him?” She looked up at Kam, blinking emerald colored eyes in confusion.
“That’s Dmitri’s brother, Neven…. your new coach.”
“No!” she gasp, dragging out the word into several syllables.
Kam nodded slowly, “I’m afraid so, but he isn’t so bad once you get to know him.” He glanced out the door, then caught Maggie’s eye. “I hope.”
----
If you're wondering... Maggie is a bit Chav and this is her voice/accent PB RIGHT HERE!
Expect lots of swearing and use of "fook" instead of "fuck." TRA LA LA ! Also word count is over 11K now and I don't know what's going on. ACK!