Attitude en pointe [Mitya]

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Clarisse applauded briefly as her dance team students took a bow, signaling the end of their cool down. Practice had been lovely, and the pop routine was coming along swimmingly. There were some students who were a little shy, but they’d certainly break out of that shell eventually…at least Clarisse hoped so. She thought the routine was perfectly modest for a high school routine, but she did have a few strange birds on the team.

“Lovely, merveilleux!” She congratulated as the students broke ranks and began to gather their things. “I’m not sure what we’ll be doing next week, my dears, but come prepared for something that isn’t hip-hop, just in case!” She chirped, smacking the ‘pause’ button on the stereo to quiet the music. “That means watch your clunky sneakers and no baggy clothing.” Clarisse added, smiling pleasantly at the students as they filed off the stage and out of the auditorium.

When they were all gone, or mostly gone, Clarisse began to clean up. Walking the stage with a small trash can, she plucked up empty and half-empty bottles of Gatorade and water, throwing them out after the forgetful children. She was setting the bin next to her make-shift ballet bar when she noticed an adult figure in the door way. “Can I help you?” She called, tucking strands of her hair behind her ear.

[Mitya Makarov]

Despite his obvious difficulty in social situations of late, the very second Mitya discovered that there was a dance club in the school, he had made up his mind to go snooping check it out. Maybe he could help instruct! He was, after all, a ballet dancer. And, surprisingly enough, he was fairly passionate about it. As a boy, he hadn't quite believed that it would do him much good and fussed. That did not last very long. His mother, after the argument with his father, then managed to convince him to try it. Those classes seemed to have taken place centuries ago, and he had been happy doing them. It wasn't just for personal reasons, however, that the Russian felt ballet to be a most important art form.

Armed strongly with arguments for the positive effects of such a discipline, he made his way to the auditorium, where he was told the classes took place. Pop music blared from within, which didn't give him much hope, really. Still, he was prepared to push his point. As the music stopped, he smiled. Argumentative nature over something he felt strongly about? Stubborn need to be proven right? Yes, that certainly felt like he was beginning to be himself again.

Patiently, he waited until all of the class had poured out of the auditorium, but when it was just himself and the other staff member, he was rather suddenly unable to speak up. She was busy... he didn't need to bother her... and he should have been focusing on lesson plans...

“Can I help you?”

Ah, he had been spotted. Well, he did go to the trouble of preparing for an argument.

"Yes; I hope I'm not disturbing you?" Stepping into the room, he noticed the bar. That was definitely encouraging. "I was wondering if I could help with the dance class at all? I was unsure which styles are being taught, and I'm not certain that what I would like to teach would fit with your lessons." After an awkward pause, he added: "I practice ballet, so..." And then he simply trailed off, though he was still ready to debate if she said 'no'.

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Clarisse shook her head, looking slightly bewildered but otherwise pleasant. “You’re not disturbing me at all, sir. Practice has finished.” She motioned for him to come up onto the stage to speak with her. “You’ve actually caught me at the perfect time, before I go back to my office.” She explained.

Her eyes lit up when Mitya confessed his ballet training. “Ballet?!” she explained, gasping and clapping her hands eagerly. “Oh! How wonderful!” Clarisse rushed down stage to meet him. “I’ve been trying to teach the students port de bras for our waltz exercises.” She chuckled and shook her head. “But they’re struggling.” She gestured vaguely to the stereo. “We practice all forms of dance, but they seem to have the least trouble with pop and pop-jazz.”

“What did you have in mind?” She asked, obviously excited and open to the suggestion.

[Mitya Makarov]

Even if she insisted that he wasn't interrupting anything or really bothering her, he still felt a little sheepish and shy. It may have been more polite to call her or something, but he had so wanted to man up and speak to someone face to face do this in person.

Having seriously expected a fight on his hands (not a literal one, of course, but one with many angry words coming almost exclusively from himself) he was fairly relieved to hear her sounding almost excited about the prospect of teaching her dance students ballet. If the students already had a variety of dance types under their belts then surely ballet wouldn't be too difficult... eve if she did say that they were struggling.

"I'll admit," he began slowly, smiling. "I thought I would have to argue my point and really did not think this far... but I'm sure there are moves which can be incorporated in some way to the pop dances. They will need some basic moves but I'm fairly certain that I can help with that."

And already, it seemed, her excitement was rubbing off on him.

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Argue? Clarisse blinked. With me? she thought. “I don’t see why you’d have to argue such an obvious point.” Clarisse conceded warmly. Ballet had a lot of influence in many dances, but little expertise to be spoken of on the faculty. “Ballet is so very important, especially if we decide to do any more lyrical dancing.” She pointed out.

Wiggling her bare toes against the floor slightly, Clarisse hummed in thought. “I think a basics of ballet class would be perfect! Especially since we have a bit of fluctuating membership.” Zac LaRousse hadn’t been at practice in a few weeks, likely due to some restrictions on par with his punishment. “We wouldn’t have to worry so much about partnering. What do you think, Mister…?” She trailed off, and blushed slightly.

“Goodness, forgive me, but I don’t quite recall your name.” She extended her hand delicately to Mitya. “I’m Doctor Clarisse Prideaux.”

[Mitya Makarov]

It was, unfortunately, very rare to find anyone who agreed with the stance that ballet was important and relevant. It was even rarer to find someone who wouldn't resort to calling him a sugarplum fairy, and someone had even once called him Nuvekov when they clearly meant Nureyev. It would have been less of an insult if they had just got the name right. Or used a name that existed. After all it would be quite an achievement to be compared to Rudolf Nureyev. Not even his mother had compared his style in such a flattering way, as mothers were supposed to do, but then, she was a professional dancer at one point.

"I should say that I haven't met quite a lot of people with the same feelings on the matter," he admitted. "I'm so pleased, you know, that you agree. All you need to do is let me know when we should start and I'll be here." He was positively grinning, something he didn't do often.

Ah, he hadn't even thought to introduce himself. Of course. Accepting her hand and giving it the gentlest of shakes - for he was always taught that delicate ladies should be treated with respect, and they certainly didn't want their hands crushed - he apologised for his rudeness. "Dimitri Makarov. Er, Mitya, actually; I prefer it to Dimitri. It's a pleasure, Dr. Prideaux."

((ooc: I am so sorry for how late this is.))