The man’s laugh helped diffuse some of the tension that built up in Ida’s shoulders, and she couldn’t help but quirk a small smile of her own. She did not think anything she said was particularly funny, but perhaps he shared her distaste for jumping around like a bleating goat. In any case, something that felt like relief settled between the two of them, and it was… nice.

“I believe the next is a gallop, so whatever song comes after that?” she suggested. It was easier to be helpful than helpless, and so the young woman curiously inspected her dance card while she took another small sip of her drink. “Oh,” she wrinkled her nose, “Oh dear, then this will be my last glass of wine before our dance. This puts us down for a polka, which I think involves a lot of spinning on my part and skipping around on yours.” It was actually quite fun watching the men skip, some were much more sprightly and coordinated than others. Though Ida’s humor was more… deadpan, and it was sometimes difficult for acquaintances to know when she was joking. Yes. She was attempting to joke with Mister Greengrass.

“Still, it seems to be our best option. The next songs are slow, and I don’t wish to bore you to death with my research. It would be quite ironic if after all this talk about ghosts, I turned you into one.”

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