You don't think anyone would notice when I am two inches shorter all of a sudden?

[He's not wrong in the slightest, either, about Sypha's plans; she leans into him almost as soon as he's seated, reaching a hand behind his back to try to get even just a slight fold of Trevor's shirt caught in the curl of her fingertips.

Their poor Alucard. He's being worn so thin by this, and yet as close as they are to being through with the evening, it's still not close enough yet. There are still at least two more hours of mingling and posturing to be done, on top of all the efforts he's put in already, and even after that they still need to get home.

Yet again, as she has so many times before in the past few days, she thinks of his father and feels a flare of anger simmering in the pit of her stomach. Abandoning him to this —]

I'll have to stand on the tops of your shoes, if we dance. So my feet won't get bumped or stepped on.

[She rests her cheek against his shoulder, closing her eyes and melting against him.

It lasts all of about five minutes, before a shout goes up from outside.]