[Stede has never been great at parties where he knows the rules. It's even worse when there seem to be none. At first when he'd peeked in he felt overdressed and had gone to raid the ships stores. Now he felt underdressed in a ship shirt, pale blue, short sleeved and a bit too small in his hasty plundering, tending to ride up in the middle, knee length trousers with his own stockings and something oddly called crocs.
He feels like a crock himself.
It's so loud and so dark and everything and everyone is so strange seeming to fit in while he's definitely an odd duck. He is about to leave when he spots Ed in his undershirt, dancing-- and the man could even dance like the best in the room. How could anyone compete?
Perhaps he'll just watch for now and try to pick up some pointers, though there's no way he's moving his hips like that at any point. Instead he gets himself a strangely colored drink from the bar and stands back to watch the show]
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He feels like a crock himself.
It's so loud and so dark and everything and everyone is so strange seeming to fit in while he's definitely an odd duck. He is about to leave when he spots Ed in his undershirt, dancing-- and the man could even dance like the best in the room. How could anyone compete?
Perhaps he'll just watch for now and try to pick up some pointers, though there's no way he's moving his hips like that at any point. Instead he gets himself a strangely colored drink from the bar and stands back to watch the show]