(Where to for B&M?) * * * Eventually, Gwen pulled up to a building with pounding music and bright lights.
Ben was at the table, sketching something. *** She parked, turning to him. “Don’t hate me,” she said smoothly. “But we’re doing something not very fun.”
She knocked before tucking her hands in her pockets, a bag of her things over her shoulder. *** He squinted at her. "What are we doing?"
She entered with a smile, taking her coat off as she came in. "I could've been a murderer!" *** He frowned. "Dancing? Gwen.."
He looked up, beaming. “A murderer who knocks?” *** She came over and opened the passenger door, raising an eyebrow.
She came over to him. "You never know. What're you drawing?" *** He hesitated momentarily, but sighed and got out.
“Frogs,” he said, standing up. “I’m washed up as an artist.” *** She beamed, taking his hands and kissing the back of them before pulling him to the door.
She reached up, her hand brushing his jaw. "I don't believe that. I love your art." *** He flushed, following her uncertainly.
“You haven’t seen much of my art,” he retorted playfully. *** They entered the building. It was a club. That was the main way to describe it. But all around them, people were dancing.
He huffed, leaning down and kissing her. “You’re silly.” *** “Neither do I,” Gwen admitted, squinting. “But... Courage Tests. Remember?”
He rolled his eyes. "I love you too, fool." * * * She looked at him for a moment before taking his hand. "As heroes," she said, her voice almost like a professor in a lecture hall, "we need to do things that are not only scary, but uncomfortable." She pulled him to the dance floor. "And that includes dancing around lots of other, sweaty, drunk people."
She stuck her tongue out at him playfully. "When will you show me your art in that graffiti room?" *** He huffed. "I suppose.."
"The graffiti room? I don't know. It's not very good." * * * She eyed him for a moment before tilting her head curiously. "Are you a bad dancer?"
