Oops, Alvin hadn't actually meant a real dance partner, but now he was looking around to see if she did have one and he had somehow flaked on her. Fortunately there was a little lull and it wouldn't be too awkward yet? Pivot, Bixby, pivot. He could always step in, if necessary, but just as he'd admitted earlier; he wasn't very good at it, was long out of practice. At least he'd though to wear gloves tonight, no matter how uncomfortable they were. It wasn't nearly as unbearable as having to explain the marred skin of his hand to a stranger.

Still he knew he was already fumbling so he had to recover; "Your designs are stunning," he said a little more earnestly. He'd said as much to Calla, too; had been in awe of Miss Thompsett's sketches from the get-go, but to see them in real life, well, it must have been as satisfying as bringing a broom into reality from the lines on the paper. "So are you." He added. No hidden meaning, not because he felt like he had to say it; Miss Thompsett looked absolutely lovely in her dress and she seemed to be enjoying herself, which only added to the aura she projected. For all he'd worried about Sloane's friends in the wake of her death; everyone seemed to be bouncing back just fine. It was a relief. It made him feel a little less guilty for doing the same, for starting to find his footing in the broom business once again, even if he still had a lot of work to do.