"Gonna have to be." There's a matching smile twitching at the edges of the solemn expression he's forced his own face into. Chances are, it might not be as bad as all that - but he can't be entirely certain, what with the lack of any real practice. So it's probably best to have the chances laid out all neat. Just in case.

Now, thing is, there's a certain kind of person you don't play around with. Don't ask all sarcastic or try hard to show just what a fool you are. So Des thinks back on the times his momma had been singing somewhere decent, where people actually bothered dancing nice with each other. Reaches a hand forward and makes it as proper as somebody can when they've got the first two fingers of their right glove gone missing. Even sticks the words in the correct order. "Do me the honor, Miss Viola?"