A prince--! My tales would make poor stories, I'm sure. [He went from his usual demeanor to flustered in the span of a few words. It wasn't the first time he'd heard such a comparison since he'd arrived, but Freya always managed to have a way with words that left him struck all the more by them.

Still, he was humble enough to find a laugh at the end of it, if only to deflect it in due modesty.]

Perhaps you're right; I'm even starting to feel like I can find it.

[But his modesty was short-lived; his drink was set down beside hers, half-finished, and he moved to step back out into the dance as the crowd poured back out onto the floor. This time, however, was a far cry from the uncertain steps he'd taken before, and with a flourishing sweep he led, gracefully pulling Freya out into position along with him.

However unpolished, happiness and togetherness did make the point of it, right?]

Like this, was it...?

[The song was a bit faster, and the style of dance he'd done before had hardly any time to become refined in his practice, but at least he could begin to push aside what unease and unfamiliarity he had before... even if he'd sometimes splice in the occasional sweep or twirl from his more familiar repertoire when he forgot a step.]