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Violent-Medic
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“I mean, dancing is easy. It's good dancing that's hard. Regular dancing is just moving while music happens in the background, right?”

As nice as this awkward-in-movement-but-not-in-atmosphere dance was, Clarice was happy to see Kiziah when she interrupted for help with getting stuff off her dress.

“Kiziii! It's all good, you're not exactly interrupting a stunning display of skill.” Clarice beamed at Kiziah. Kizi was cool. Very sweet. Relaxed. Clarice wished she could take things that well, sometimes. Arguing and yelling at things could get exhausting.

She let go of Conrad's hands and checked Kizi's back for the piece of velcro. She removed it carefully, looking down at it with mild puzzlement.

“That is weird. Maybe it… fell from somewhere? If it was from a bag, it was probably falling apart anyway.” Clarice didn't really know what to do with the velcro, so she handed it back to Kizi. “And if velcro's not called velcro, what is it called?”

At the compliment, Clarice beamed wider and curled her arm back around Conrad's. “Thanks!” Always nice to hear that. Clarice always kinda worried in the back of her head about it. No romance novel she ever read mentioned the girl having thirty pounds of muscle on the guy, and she got enough mockery from assholes like Bradley on it when she was by herself.

“You look adorable, by the way! Cute dress, looks great! You bring anyone or you just rocking it solo?” As she said that, Clarice realised that Kizi was mostly likely on her own if she had to ask Clarice with help about the velcro thing. Oh well, if she didn't have a date it was probably because she didn't want one. Who wouldn't go with Kizi?
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Tiny Vessels · At the Dance