"I'd be delighted," Viola smiles. The apples of her cheeks are pinker than the cold can take credit for alone. While she has no illusions about this being some silly princess and pauper tale, Viola does think there is something romantic about her fine leather glove finding its way into his tattered one. Maybe it's ungenerous of her to even consider it but she's attracted to the idea that Desmond isn't an obvious dance partner for her. Yet, here they are. Must be serendipity.

She drapes her free hand up around his shoulder and steps closer than she might if they were in the school auditorium under hokey silver-painted frisbees instead of soft light and falling snow. "Do you enjoy dances?" she asks. She hadn't gone to Peckenpaugh's Halloween dance, so she doesn't know if Des went or not. "The events, I mean."