Are we dancing? (Ellen/Open)

He arrived late, thanks to the rendezvous with Ellen in the attic. He didn’t blame her at all, he was more relaxed than he’d been in days, and it was because of her, so how could he harbor ill will towards her? The suit was one his parents had sent down, a simple black jacket and pants, with a crisp white linen shirt beneath. The tie was green and the cufflinks were simple squares. He wasn’t dressed super fancy, but it was certainly enough for this dance. Dark eyes cast over the space, and didn’t see Ellen, so he decided to head for the far wall, where he could watch people coming in and out.

The lanky boy propped himself against the wall, making sure to only look at the feet of the people coming in, hoping that would quell some of the visions. For some reason, it was worse when he looked right at the person, rather than when he stared at their feet. He didn’t care why that was, he was just happy for it, he could look up less often that way. Anything that saved him the visions was appreciated. Most of the time.

Nate still hadn’t figured out the episode with the kid with glasses and why he didn’t trigger visions. It still didn’t make sense, and although he’d seen the boy several other times, still no visions has produced themselves. Normally, he would have been pleased and tried to make friends with the other resident, but in this case, it made him angry, and he would go into the bathroom and scratch at the raw skin until it bled.

He waited, foot tapping against the floor for the blond headed girl to show herself. Even if they weren’t going to actually dance, she deserved something nice, the present she’d given him couldn’t be repaid, but he was going to try and show her a good time tonight, provided he didn’t go a bit nuts from all of the people and visions.

Ellen's dress was probably one of, if not the cheapest in the room, but she didn't mind. She doubted anyone would notice her anyway, except Nate. She didn't have the pen with her right now, not having pockets, but the small of her back was still covered with the ink he'd drawn with earlier, she could only hope that would be enough for him for the moment. If it wasn't, well, he wasn't going to hit her in front of all these people. Maybe he'd try and draw on her with brown sauce or something, if they'd even have something like that at a do like this, even on the buffet table.

She eventually made it to the function hall, it was surprisingly tricky not to think of the place as some dingy room at the back of a pub, delayed by Maggie as well as by their little diversion earlier. Nate wasn't hard to spot when she got in though, standin off to the side, staring down at the ground for reasons she wasn't going to ask about. Slowly, and more than a little nervously, she made her way over to him, her own gaze dropping when she reached her...what was she supposed to call him anyway? They weren't in a relationship, were they? Honestly, she had no idea.

"What do you think?" she asked, giving a small quarter turn in either direction, her dress swooshing out a little as she moved. She hated frocking up like this, what was wrong with a pair of jeans anyway? It wasn't like she had a choice though, just like she'd be expected to dance now. "I don't know how to dance, I've just seen it on TV a lot." she muttered, though strictly come dancing probably didn't count as actual dance. Maybe she'd get lucky and they'd just go sit in the quiet area though, that'd...probably end badly, but it would be better than dancing.

Ellen's words dragged him from his reverie. He looked up, smiling at her as she twirled in front of him, almost as if she were anxious for his approval. But that couldn't be. Most of the time she was almost scared of him, or more accurately it seemed that she was scared of what he might do to her. It made him wonder what had been done to her, and for how long, that she was accustomed to people treating her in such a horrible fashion. At least, he assumed it was horrible, after all, one wouldn't flinch away or expect sex so easily if it wasn't, right?

"I don't know how to dance either, do you want to go on the benches over there and talk?" Nate was as nervous as Ellen was, although he was trying harder not to show it. He wanted to appear calm and composed; she'd helped with that, their little interlude had provided calm, but being around all of these people was not helping. It was a battle he was losing, and he needed to get away, quickly. Nate smiled when Ellen followed him to the benches, and sat down with her in a shadowy area away from others.

"Will you tell me about yourself?" Nate found himself wanting to know more about her. He knew more about Ace then he did about Ellen, and that didn't sit well with him. Nate and Ace had a strange sort of bromance going on, and how he felt about that detail was still up in the air. He knew that there was a strange pull towards Ellen, but he wasn't sure he could identify that feeling either. It was all just a big mystery, and he needed more pieces to put the puzzle together.

As Nate spoke, Ellen nodded. Sitting and talking. Probably not all he'd get up to, but, it wasn't like she was going to stop him, whatever he did. Saying nothing, she followed him over to the benches, looking out at the dancefloor as she walked, smiling a little at the sight of the big black guy dancing with the girl who slept in the bunk under Maggie's. She'd never thought to learn Faith's name, the same way she hadn't bothered with most of her other roommates. Settlign down on the bench, and letting the shadows envelop the poth of them, she smoothed out her dress and risked a look over at Nate.

When he spoke, her eyes widened. What was she supposed to say to that? Did he want to hear about the videos of her on the internet? or the way her mother had sold her body from such a young age? Would he want to hear about Travis and the things he'd done, so he could emulate them (Or worse, try to outdo them)? Looking down again, a hand went up to play with a strand of her bleached hair, and she gave a small shrug. "What do you want to know?" the brummie asked, fidgeting in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with discussing the subject. Was she even going to be capable of it without one of those awful flashbacks? She didn't know, and didn't really want to find out.