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Post by leap on Nov 13, 2011 22:28:24 GMT -5
Henry Miller - somehow known as Leap - leaned against a wall on the outskirts of the graceful movements of the crowd uncomfortably in his traditional tuxedo. A white undershirt covered in a black tux. A white tie lay crumpled in a heap on the ground beside him next to the 17 year old boy. He felt greatly better without having to feel a choking around his throat, but the fogginess of the room and sweaty people dancing overcame that relief. Henry frowned and crossed his arms, irritated that he had basically been forced to escort his friends and their dates into the Great Hall and then been dumped. If he had any sense, Henry would of just left. But he wasn't using his head. Besides, it was fun to just watch people. He wiggled his toes from under the shiny black shoes, losing feeling again in them. Leap then pushed himself off the wall and stepped towards the punch table where the group that had gathered there previously was taking off to go back onto the tiled dance floor. He stirred the glass bowl carefully before raising it over a goblet in his hand and then dripping the contents into the cup. As Leap took sips, he allowed himself to finally take in the changes that had been made for this occassion. The tables were all gone or pushed up to the side, and candle flames flickered throught the walls and chandeliers. It was pretty enchanting, he had to admit.
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