Kian was confused. No one seemed to like him very much. What had he done? What had he said?
He stepped out of the strange, crowded room, picking up his bag on the way. There must be somewhere here for him to practice, surely? His dance shoes were comforting after the long journey, and he realised just how much he had missed them.
Hello, old friends. They did not reply. Ah well, he had not really expected them to.
Humming a lively slip jig to himself, he started to dance, out there in the corridor, hoping that no one would come to watch.
They're bound to stare, he thought. That always embarasses me. Cautiously he touched the belt under his shirt. It was probably not a good idea to show that now.
Instead, he reached out around him. Most people here seemed to be pretty good - that made a change. Hardly any of the balances were normal, but that did not surprise him. After all, hardly any of these people were human.
He felt the buoyant lightness, contrasting strongly with its sister pain, that characterised love. Smiling slightly, he withdrew, and continued to dance.
My goodness, he really was rather rusty on these dances. Next time he spent months on the road, he'd make sure he stopped to practice on his way.