And now this man complimented her again, telling her that stylist always could only do half the work? Regarding Faustina for example, that was certainly true, but could anyone blame Aquila to be thoroughly enchanted, guileless as she still was in her sixteen years of age?
”Thank you!” she repeated, beaming this time and felt herself growing a few inches out of sheer pride and enhanced self-esteem. “But if I may be so bold, you look exceptional as well tonight!” What was probably most exceptional about Seneca was that he didn’t seem to indulge much in the fashion craze of the Capitol, apart maybe from his delicately trimmed beard, which in effect made him stick out more than he ever could have with bright colors and fashionable wigs. He had a way of dressing so shockingly ‘normal’ that it gave him an alien and honestly dangerous look sometimes. He reminded Aquila often of some deadly cat of prey, like a panther for example. Waiting hidden in a tree, invisible through his ability to merge with the surroundings, but always ready to pounce down on his unsuspecting victim. The thought made a sweet shiver run down Aquila’s spine. Of course she was never in real danger, this was all just a feeling for kicks. Seneca Crane saved his ruthless side only for the games, right? And anyway, why should SHE have something to fear from him? It was all just sweet mind games, nothing more.
She knew it had been a bold move what she had been doing, but it became even bolder by how Seneca reacted to it. He seemed very much inclined to mirror her flirting a little tonight, and while Aquila’s heart missed a beat and she felt the breath catch in her throat, she could only imagine how this all must look like for an outsider. Would she want that to be on the cover of some magazine? What would her father say? But then, he probably would not say anything, Aurelius Kerr knew how to keep his head low.He would have a serious private word with his only daughter and then forget about the incident, knowing that next time there would be a different woman on this man’s arm anyway. So, where was the harm in it all, truly?
With still pent up breath, she waited for his answer. Was it possible he could refuse? But then, of course he didn’t and Aquila felt so elated by him agreeing that it was like she was floating towards the dancefloor, hardly even feeling her hand in his. “This is wonderful, thank you so much!” she whispered, not sure how strong her voice would be, as she gently placed her left hand on his shoulder. It certainly looked like this night was rapidly becoming the best night of her life and Aquila felt slightly overwhelmed by it all, unable to say much.
Praises, compliments, flattery--Seneca was very much familiar and had gotten quite used to them after all these years. While there were a few detractors here and there, they were negligible compared to the well-wishes and the adulation that come his way every minute of everyday. Really, it felt like Seneca could do nothing wrong in his life. It certainly amused him to no end how people in the Capitol have come to regard him highly, second only to the President. To hear such a compliment from Aquila was not surprising, but Seneca appreciated it nevertheless. More than anything, he wanted to make a good impression on his 'date', not that that would be hard to achieve. But it does help to know that Aquila sure was pleased with him and how he looked tonight. While he wasn't exactly averse to wearing flamboyant suits or dying his jet black hair in all shades available, Seneca prefer elegant simplicity. His beard, carved and crafted with artful perfection, was his main pre-occupation. Other men can color their hair or wear bright and glaring suits all they want, but Seneca would rather keep his well-sculpted beard. It had become his trademark. No one in the Capitol, and most certainly none in all of Panem, can rock the beard like he does. "Thank you," he replied sincerely. "I wouldn't want a glorious vision such as you to appear in public with a shabby old man now, would I?"
Her enthusiasm to all of these was contagious. He knew Aquila had been to her fair share of parties, but the wonder in her eyes at stepping into the dancefloor with him made him surprisingly excited as well. Perhaps it was her youthful vigor, that unbound spirit of a teenager that made her see the world with such wide open eyes. Seneca had to admit, he hadn't felt like that for a while now that he felt irresistibly drawn to her. And having been overdosed with both the grandiose displays of extravagance in the Capitol and the heartless murders of children in the Hunger Games, Seneca had to admit that he was starting to get rather jaded and callous over things. Sure, he smiles and waves for the crowd and milks the attention and reverence for all its worth, but at the end of the day, when he's all alone in his home, Seneca couldn't help but feel a touch numb sometimes. Being with Aquila tonight somehow ignited a fire within him that had been rather doused down. At the back of his mind, he knew this. Her beauty and energy were such a balm to Seneca that he couldn't help but wanting to have more of it, more of her.
Seneca snaked his hand around her dainty waist as she settled hers over his shoulder. His lips curved into a smile as he pulled her closer to him, their bodies gently touching, as he expertly guided her into the middle of the dancefloor. His eyes locked intently into hers as he took the lead and swept the floor with her with graceful steps and well-choreographed moves that made the other dancers decide to slowly step back. Tonight, he was making Aquila the belle of the ball. And sure enough, just as the dancefloor cleared up with no one but them dancing, lights flashed one after the other and astonished whispers and exclamations filled the hall as the media finally caught wind of Seneca's new beauty for the night. "Don't mind them. Just dance, Aquila, dance with me," he whispered as he tightened his hold around the small of her back. "Hold tight," he added with a small impish grin, before gently moving to dip her low, his hand supporting her back as he lowered her. Seneca held the position until the cameras got their fix. He planted a swift but soft kiss on Aquila's throat before pulling her back up and holding her steady close to him. Seneca could already imagine how amazing Aquila will look in the papers tomorrow in her shimmering red, orange and yellow dress contrasting quite brilliantly with his own black tailored suit.
