man_of_all_work | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's far too cold to be outside.

Which is why Perry is not. Instead, he's sitting at a table, whittling at something, and whistling cheerfully.

With tea.

Of course.

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"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."

"That I doubt, somehow," says Amy, "since most of the people you'd need to sneak away from probably already know what you look like. Anyway, you make a far better man-of-all-work. Senior Royal Pages can be so terribly self-important, you know."

"That is true," he concedes. "At any rate, it's easy enough to slip past people loking for you when you're at a ball and there are hundreds of people all walking around. So it shouldn't be too hard."

"Oh, sneaking into the ball would be the easy part," she says. "It would be sneaking out of the kitchen that would be difficult. There's ever so much to be done in a kitchen during a ball, you know, and you have an incredibly grumpy fourth assistant senior cook who keeps a terribly close watch on things, and scolds."

"Is there? I hadn't any idea."

Perry thinks on this conundrum intently for a moment.

"I suppose we'll just have to have our own ball," he says. "Or invite the kitchen staff. One of the two."

Amy laughs. "That's sort of what we're doing now, isn't it?"

"And a marvelous idea it was," he says, sweeping her grandly about.

"Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, I rather think it was," agrees Amy. "A much better idea than sneaking into a ball, really. There's no unpleasant company to avoid."

"Only very pleasant company here," he agrees, and smiles down at her in a way that makes his eyes twinkle charmingly.

"Far more enjoyable than a ball."

It is probably worth repeating that Perry has a very nice smile.

"I can't really say they I've ever cared for balls, honestly," admits Amy. "They're sort of . . . boring."

"But they often have very good food," he points out.

"Although apparently it makes rather a lot of extra work for the kitchens."

"Ever so much extra work, really. Though it also makes it much easier to find leftover nuts to take to Mr. Pemberthy, so there's some good that comes from them."

"I am sorry about that," he says, and it's sincere. "I don't plan the things, you know, it's the Council that does that, but I feel rather responsible all the same. Is there some way I can make it up to you?"