And stars did she look
alive. For a brief moments he just looked at her, studied her. He had spent enough time with the Jedi Master to have a pretty decent read on her, and this was something that rocked his carefully filed library of body language to the foundation. Jonyna always stood tall, but there was a subtle weight on her shoulders, a mostly well hidden sadness in her eyes that was typically over shadowed by the fire in them.
This was a different Jonyna, one truly letting go to enjoy the moment, and it made her all the more beautiful in the dazzling lights of the dance floor. Beltor...did not often dance, but between the whisky in his veins, the beat of his heart rising to match the drums from the speakers and the enrapturing sight of the
Tigress in front of him, he moved.
He
Danced. He didn't know the song off the top of his head, but he found the rhythm quickly and began to move with her, copying the movements and feeling the moment in a way that teetered between shear enjoyment and total sensory overload.
A distant, calculative part of his mind was still doing what years of living on his own had engrained in it self. Noting those around them, exits, entries, the weight of the gun still sitting in the holster under his arm. The rest of him wasn't. The rest of him had embraced the heady, intoxicating flow the moment.
It was better then any spice he had ever partaken of. Burned more then any whisky he had ever enjoyed.