man_of_all_work | (no subject)

"Really?"

He looks at her with a small, lopsided sort of smile.

"How in the world that that come about?"

"Fairy godmother," she says, simply. "Downtrodden but kindhearted and very beautiful serving girl. So her fairy godmother, who I am quite certain was not Godmama Crustacea, who has rather more sense, dressed her up and sent her off to a ball in some sort of squash or something, supposedly. And when she left she forgot one of her shoes, probably on purpose, I suspect.

"Anyway, my great-grandfather was apparently too gallant for his own good and decided to return it to her. And, well, one thing led to another, and it seems that returning glass footware is another of those things you can't do and then not marry the girl. So check your dance partners' feet very carefully."

"That story sounds familiar," Perry muses, when she's finished.

"But that is excellent advice. I shall certainly pay attention to the lady's shoes."

Amy nods. "Do."

Exactly how Perry is going to be able to check the shoes of women in trailing ballgowns is not really something Amy is concerned with.

"I think you should be relatively safe, then. If you don't rescue anyone or dance with anyone in glass slippers."

"Silly things, anyway, glass slippers," he says, dismissively.

'I don't suppose you would ever wear anything so useless."

He leans down, to check Amy's footwear.

Amy raises her skirt an inch or two, so that he can see her shoes, which are brown, leather, flat-soled, and buckled on. They're very practical shoes.

"I've never quite understood how anyone managed to dance in them," she agrees. "Expect, perhaps, sedately."

"I don't know," he says, straightening. "You'd think they'd break pretty easily."

"Yes, though I suppose if fairies can make a person Ordinary they can make breakproof glass shoes."

It's the part about the squash that confuses her the most, really.

"At any rate, glass slippers are for deserving serving girls, not princesses, so I don't have to worry about it."

"What about princesses disguised as serving girls?" Perry asks, with interest.

Amy laughs. "I'm honestly not sure," she says. "I think that involves dresses that shine as brightly as the sun or something, rather than glass slippers. But it won't work anyway. My godmother is a very sensible fairy. And I'm fairly certain it has to a ball at the palace at which you're pretending to be a serving girl, and I couldn't turn up at one of those and not have you recognize me, now. Unless you have very bad eyes."

"I could pretend to not recognize you," Perry says, wisely. "And then we could dance the night together, and cause all sorts of rumors, and really just be having a good time together staying away from all the terribly dull people there."

Amy rests her chin on one hand and looks at him for a moment.

"Maybe," she says. "Though I could avoid all the dull people by staying in the kitchen, you know. So before I could possibly agree to anything like that, Perry, I'm afraid I'd have to know whether or not you were very good at dancing."

"Of course I'm good at dancing," he says, indignantly. "You don't get to be king unless you can dance properly. You have to start off all of the balls, you know."

"Properly, yes," says Amy patiently, and with a very teasing sort of smile, "but that doesn't mean you necessarily do it well. I've danced with quite a few who were quite dreadful, Perry. After all, it's not like most a king's dance partners would dream of complaining to him that he stepped on her feet."

"Then we shall have to dance, and I'll prove it to you," he says, firmly.

"All right," says Amy, easily.

It might be want she wanted by bringing the whole topic up in the first place, after all.

He stands up, and offers her his hand.

"Your Highness?"

Amy looks up at him, and laughs. "Right now? Perry, we're in the middle of a bar."

"So?"

He waves his hand around.

"There's plenty of room."

Amy looks at him for another moment, and then takes his hand.

"All right," she says, again.

She's not blushing.

At least, not much.

He bows to her, then, with a grin, and pulls her into a hold, counts in his head, and starts them off.

And Perry is surprisingly graceful.

And he doesn't step on her feet at all.

It's not difficult to waltz, even if there's no music, so long as the person leading keeps the count steady in his head.

And so it's not difficult, therefore, to forget that there is no music, and that they're in the middle of bar.

What would be difficult, right now, would be for Amy to stop smiling.

"You do dance well," she says, eventually. "Very well, then. If I ever sneak into a ball in His Majesty's palace, with or without glass shoes, then you may claim any or all dances that you like."

"That," Perry says, smiling, "is excellent news. And I'll even help you sneak in, if you like. It's easy enough, you know. All you need is a nice dress, and you already know how to dance."

"Thank you," she says, graciously, and then laughs. "I somehow suspect that you are better at sneaking than other kings."

"Far better," Perry laughs. "Especially as most people seem to think I'm a senior page."