If there was a class Sloane detested more than potions, it was etiquette. All the simpering and manners and everything else that she had tried so hard not to learn in life forced in front of her face. Needless to say she was miserable— and it was about to get worse.

Dancing. Great.

Partners were to be chosen, though even if she'd gotten to choose, she would have apologetically shot straight for Ned. Ned was the safe choice, though obviously not her first, there was no way she and Cam could get through a dancing lesson without getting too comfortable in front of a room full of their peers. Dancing with Ned was like dancing with Wally or Harry, which coincidentally were usually the victims of her mother's few attempts to previously educate Sloane in such practices.

She was not so lucky however, as she found herself staring up, way up at Selwyn. It had to be a whole foot of distance that separated them surely. It was a predicament she was familiar with, but for a wildly different reason. She cast Cameron a helpless glance. Though they were currently at odds with Sisse she was at least better than Selwyn.

"Oh a little." And she wasn't terrible at it either, but he didn't need to know that. Today she would very slyly play the part of ungraceful duckling; she was going to make him work for this. "And yourself?"