[Kaneda's hands let go, more gracefully than his appearance let on. Letting hers settle on his shoulders, roughed up by months in the ring, even longer by skids on Neo Tokyo blacktops. Scarred by countless throws from a psychic tantrum.
It was gentle now, soft hands through the fabric of his shirt. And muscles practically press up into them, wanting to be held. His hands go to her waist, fingers rough but movements gentle as he aligns his body with hers. Their feet would have to move as one, and he was more than prepared to lead her with that.
The smile goes from confident to guiding, the softer side of his personality starting to really shine as the music picks up into the main chorus. All he has to go on are the beat and her lyrics, as unintelligible as they may be to him. But music was like that--you didn't have to get it to get a feeling out of it.
His feet move, slow at first as he guides, and if she happens to look down, he'll let her.
He knew the dance by heart--and had much better things to focus on.]
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It was gentle now, soft hands through the fabric of his shirt. And muscles practically press up into them, wanting to be held. His hands go to her waist, fingers rough but movements gentle as he aligns his body with hers. Their feet would have to move as one, and he was more than prepared to lead her with that.
The smile goes from confident to guiding, the softer side of his personality starting to really shine as the music picks up into the main chorus. All he has to go on are the beat and her lyrics, as unintelligible as they may be to him. But music was like that--you didn't have to get it to get a feeling out of it.
His feet move, slow at first as he guides, and if she happens to look down, he'll let her.
He knew the dance by heart--and had much better things to focus on.]