The last thing Sloane would have ever expected was for a compliment to leave Selwyn's lips. Aimed in her direction no less. Her mouth nearly fell open at the thought of it. The surprise registered first, quickly replaced by furrowed brows and a skeptical look. Sloane wasn't terrible at dancing, he was right, quick quidditch reflexes translated easily to dancing, but she had hardly expected him to comment on it. She let out a noncommittal noise of acknowledgement, but wasn't sure what he was playing at.

It was fishy.

Still, she kept up easily, the music wafting through the hall around pairs of students having mixed success. Sloane very nearly glanced over at Cam and Sisse again, but didn't want Selwyn to have anything else to comment on. "My mother," Fiona hadn't been strict on it, but her family was large, as was her father's and they often had lively family parties that included quite a bit of dancing. Sloane had expressed an interest in the reels and quadrilles but the waltz or anything like it had come along in the instruction and she'd begrudgingly cooperated just so she could learn the faster-paced fun ones. "We often have large extended family functions, they get quite into their dancing. I assume you started young?" She assumed most stuffy pureblood families started torturing their young early with things like manners, elocution and dancing lessons.

Blegh.