[For a heart-freezing second, he thinks he's lightning-blasted a hole through her. The relief Therion feels when she speaks up is almost staggering. Or maybe it is staggering, literally; he breathes out and braces his hands on his thighs and finds that he's a lot more tired than he should be for barely a minute, if that, of dancing.
He files that away to figure out later and wipes sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.]
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He files that away to figure out later and wipes sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.]
...Damn. Never thought I could do that.