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"Angelica" Warrington for Myles Warrington.
I hold my peace, sir? no; No, I will speak as liberal as the north; Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, All, all, cry shame against me, yet I’ll speak.
He has touched my ankle and seen me with my hair down (not intentionally, of course!), so I'm pretty sure I already know what it feels like to be married.Helga Scamander in Helga's Boy Book
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One Foot Before The Other
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4th July, 1890 — Sanditon Soiree
The evening had scarcely begun, but already Rosamund’s foremost feeling was regret. She was awkward at dances at the best of times, but the first quadrille had not been nearly enough warmup for this part of the evening. She was expected to approach the names on her card and dance with them even though they had not particularly asked her?

She thought this was an exceedingly flawed approach. Luckily, after the waltz she could fall back on Uncle Beckett’s company. Less luckily, the first name on her card was Mr. Enoch Rosier: here was a man who was a little too eligible for anyone’s comfort, and not to mention who struck an intimidating figure, the sort who was tall and handsome and probably not inclined to chit-chat. She knew perfectly well who he was without the glow from the dance card, and suspected any number of young ladies would be more than happy to take this chance from her - perhaps she could offer to bow out? No, no, that would make things needlessly awkward. She was trying not to be awkward.

“Mr. Rosier, good evening,” Rosamund began, a touch apologetic. “I’m sorry to... interrupt?” She hadn’t meant it as a question, but hesitance was warping her words already. She flashed her dance card at him to explain herself, grateful at least that the waltz was made of simpler steps than some of the next dances.

Only that would oblige her to think of something to say while they danced. Oh dear.
@Enoch Rosier / @Elladora Black

Dancing, wine and women fulfilled at least two of Enoch’s preferred ways to spend an evening and so, at his sister’s suggestion, he had joined her at the Sanditon and was already regretting that decision. Choosing his own dance partners had never seemed like such a freedom before but he felt, for the first time in company, some modicum of nervousness about who he was going to get. With his luck lately it would be that bloody woman, though he hadn’t spotted her here just yet.

Fortunately for his nerves it was Miss Bones that presented herself, offering her dance card with all the officiousness of somebody with a day pass at the museum. He smiled to himself and relieved himself of his drink before he took her hands. Miss Bones was a perfectly acceptable dance partner – eligible enough that his sister could report back to mama that he had at least been trying, pretty enough he was not embarrassed to be seen with her and, best of all, spectacularly uninterested in the sort of chatter he usually had to indulge in with debutantes.

“Did you happen to treat that reprobate Stan Worsley last week, Miss Bones? I believe we sent him to the hospital after he was caught and I never did find out if his injuries killed him.”

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Indecently attractive set by MJ
See, this already wasn’t as terrible as she had worked herself up to believing it would be, Rosamund reprimanded herself as they started on the waltz steps, Mr. Rosier even saving her from dreaded smalltalk by a name still rather familiar to her.

“Oh!” she exclaimed as they turned, only slightly conscious of their direction, “I only did a few of his tests myself... though the last I saw, his organs were all still functioning, I’m afraid.” She suppressed a very small smile at Mr. Rosier’s cavalier tone, fully aware that vindication for the auror before her in that regard might rather be a dire failure on the part of their healer-in-charge. No, Worsley was still - well, she would not say well; no one would much want to be in his position, but certainly alive. 

“We didn’t actually hear what he was apprehended for, in the end,” Rommy inquired in return, “although I will admit the staffroom was rather bursting with ideas.” Should she tell him that a few of them had been making wagers on the rumoured reason for his arrest, or would he think St. Mungo’s a horribly callous place? (Honestly, Rommy suspected Mr. Rosier wasn’t especially the sort to mind.)

It was a shame about his organs. Never before had a man more deserved to have his kidneys melt though even Enoch had to concede that it would be a terrible death to witness. He had no sympathy for Worsley’s suffering – the fool had brought it on himself!

“I dread to think what the minds of medics might have come up with,” he admitted with a sly grin. “I daresay you see more of the worst of humanity than we do so I would be very intrigued to hear your theories.”

Miss Bones was most definitely growing on him: young ladies with a strong stomach were few and far between. Perhaps she had gotten it from her mother? Certainly he had never noticed the same sort of heartiness in any other woman in that family and he made it his business to notice the women in every family.
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   Rosamund Bones

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Indecently attractive set by MJ
“A different kind of worst, I should say,” Rommy countered lightly; the aurors faced up against the villains of the world, witnessed those who plumbed the moral depths, whereas the hospital... well, wounds and rashes, boils and bodily fluids galore. She liked to think she had built up a tolerance to strange sights since her internship, but there were still a few things permanently scarred in the back of her mind. “Perhaps a little more blood and gore than the Aurors, though,” she conceded, chancing a grin.

The breakroom theories had run the gamut, but they hadn’t time for them all (and some weren’t best suited to ballroom talk) so Rommy just laughed. “I’m more intrigued by what on earth your department discusses to de-stress,” she added artlessly, for she couldn’t think of a more fraught workday than an Auror’s.

What they did to relieve the stress of potential harm usually involved a wand and a culprit who was unlikely to be missed but it was probably best not to tell Miss Bones that. Similarly his personal predilection of visiting the Painted Lady when it had been a particularly trying day was not for the ears of a young lady, even one who transpired to have a lot more about her than Enoch had anticipated.

Had he ever met a woman before who grinned at the mention of blood and gore? Was it perhaps a dream?

"Mostly the weather," he began mysterious, though with a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. "We would all become terribly overstimulated otherwise."

The dance came to an end - a shame, Enoch thought, he was just beginning to enjoy himself - and he inclined his head towards the young lady.

"Thank you for the dance Miss Bones, perhaps next time I will get time to tell you which of my colleagues has the most scandalous topics of conversation."

With a wink he was off in search of Miss Malfoy.

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Indecently attractive set by MJ
Rommy had to suppress most of her amusement at his answers, lest she burst out laughing in the middle of a waltz. The last thing she needed was for anyone to think she was that giggly kind of girl, unable to even get through one dance serenely!

She recovered herself enough to curtsy demurely as he left, a little shocked at herself for having found that rather more enjoyable than she should have. She hoped by the time she had tracked down her partner for the galop that any flush on her face was slight enough to be taken for the physical exertion of dancing and not any effect of Mr. Rosier’s winking at her.

“Uncle Beckett,” Rosamund exclaimed, pleased to find her next partner was not someone she had any necessary obligation to impress. Her pleased look as they took their places swiftly turned to doubtful concern. “Are you sure you should be dancing? Is your shoulder quite recovered?” She was no great fan of quidditch, but it was the world cup, and he was family.
@Beckett Longbottom / @Elsie Beauregard
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   Elladora Black

At the whim of the dance cards, Beckett didn't have much time to mull over Mrs. Crouchs' departure before his delightful niece was coming his way. He noticed as they fell into the beginning of the dance that she was far too grown for his liking and though their age gap was similar to that of her mother and himself, Becks was still very much in Uncle mode.

"Ah my dear Rosamund, your concern is appreciated, but thankfully it was not a leg that was busted. Just the same shoulder as always. I trust you are having a pleasant evening?" He almost mentioned that he hoped the gentlemen were behaving, but left it out for the time being. Certainly he wouldn't have to rough anyone up tonight for being indecent with his niece.

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"A lovely white set for the lovely innocent boy." - all by my Ladylove

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