She sometimes exhibited habits that didn't make sense. For example, trying to pull a braid over her shoulder when her hair was hardly long enough to pull together into a tail. The way she'd acted in front of him was different, though. Once she figured out why it seemed quite obvious.

That feeling? The one that was partly like falling and partly like an airplane take off? Yeah. That was physical attraction. She liked him. Noel liked Michael. She couldn't figure out a graceful way to turn down the dancing that didn't feel like complete cop-out so she would attempt to keep the damage contained. She could probably keep a lid on that feeling, now that she knew what she was dealing with.

Besides, they’d apparently already done the whole dancing thing before. The Ranger hadn’t elaborated about last time, but it couldn’t have gone anywhere for a whole long list of reasons.

She used that same list as a litany to fortify her defenses while she got ready to go.

Jeans and sneakers were a give in. She wasn’t about to roll her ankle for something as dumb as fashion. Noel chose something a little dressier up top so she could get away with being all casual in the pants department. White and silky and it left her arms bare.

Rather than waiting around to hear that he was ready, the memorymancer made her way to Hunter’s door and raised a hand to knock. It never hurt to be punctual, right?

Dancing. To the Ranger dancing was one of the most enjoyable things in life. To be clear, dancing is a team sport, no bumping around, gyrating, or making an ass of oneself.

When his ankle was well enough the Ranger texted Noel with a date and time to go dancing. She had not changed her mind in the interim. And as the day approached he found himself more excited than he normally would be for a night out dancing.

He had not had the chance to frequent the dancehalls in New York City since his return. This took some digging around online to see which one seemed the least ridiculous. Nothing would be like the dancehalls back home. Nothing would live up to the Texas Hall of Fame, may it rest in peace in dancehall Heaven. To be fair, the dancehall you cut your teeth in will always be special.

From reading reviews and looking at pictures he settled on Wild West. It had the look of a Yankee trying to imitate Southern charm, but several of his favorite artists appeared to have played there so the odds of something a little less Nashville was decent. They would need to drive. It was on the mainland. This meant it would take a little while to get there, but it also meant there was parking. They could take his Hellcat Tamer. Haven's garage, while not attached was very close.

The day of, he headed up to his apartment a little early. Time for a shave and shower. Then he picked out a nice, dark pair of jeans, a long sleeve pearl snap shirt, and a nice black belt. Finally he fished out a pair of Luccese cowboy boots. Black ostrich leg with a round toe and a riding heel. You can't just wear any old wranglers and and walking boots when going dancing. And this time in particular he had felt the need to up his game.

Dressed he scooped up the normal ever day carry items you can't do without, even when out dancing. Keys, knife, and gun. The gun in a low appendix carry, as usual it was held by his belt with no holster.

He checked the time on his phone as he headed to the door. He opened it as he took his black hat off the wall.

And there was Noel hand raised to knock.

Not expecting her to be right outside his door it took him a moment, "Howdy." he said, then adding, "Y're lookin' good." Which she did. Even with the wrong footwear, but he couldn't expect people to go out for boots just to go dancing. Well, he could and often did, but that was not on his mind at the moment.

"Ready t' go?"

She was nervous and she didn't like it. Noel figured she should cancel. Last minute cold. She had to wash her hair. Her reflection looked back at her from the brassy number plate that marked his apartment number. She looked flushed and a little wide-eyed, sort-of like someone in shock. She stood there with her arm up, too full of trepidation to knock.

This wasn't right. Her gut was telling her to go home and binge on ice cream. That was the safe option.

Instead, the door opened and Noel let her hand drop, never having actually knocked.

Since when had she become such a coward?

> "Y're lookin' good."

"Thanks. You don't clean up too bad yourself." She dropped her eyes before she gave into temptation and wiped today's agenda from both their minds. There was evidence by text. That'd be stupid.

His buttons had pearls on them.

The buttons lead down to a gun.

"You always go out armed?" She used to. She'd even considered how a blade would fit best under her top before she'd realized she had none.

> "Ready t' go?"

"Ready to run away." She admitted. "But I have every faith that you won't let me make a fool of myself on the dancefloor."

She liked him, but it wasn't until that moment that she realized that didn't mean he liked her.

"Lead on, Ranger." Somehow, the idea that he was just being a good neighbor was a comfort. She could cling to that hope and relax somewhat.

His compliment was met with one in return. He smiled. Always nice to be complimented on your appearance, especially by someone you put in that extra effort for.

"You always go out armed?"

The Ranger looked down. In his excitement while getting ready he had left his pistol where the grip was printing. "Better t' have an' not need than t' need an' not have." he said as he used his right hand to shift the gun so the grip wasn't so obvious against his shirt.

"But I have every faith that you won't let me make a fool of myself on the dancefloor."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Jus' follow my lead an' we'll have everybody else jealous by the end of the night. " Jealous of the pretty girl he had and jealous of the great dancer she had. And if she picked it up like before she'd do better than several of the others on the floor by the end of the night.

"Lead on, Ranger."

Door locked behind him, the Ranger set off. Ever since Pointe Du Hoc Rangers have always lead the way, and this night had a feeling like a battle was coming. That sense of excitement and anxiety. He had to force himself not to bounce as he walked.

As Cody Johnson said, "If she gives me half a chance at romance I'm gonna dance her home."

He might as well admit it to himself, he liked Noel. The question was, what does she think of him?

They went down the elevator and out the front. A block away stood the garage. The Ranger only kept his Suzuki Hayabusa and his murdered out Mustang GT500 Hellcat Tamer in this garage. The Fordasaurus could live at his office.

As they approached the car he hit the remote start and 765 horses came to life. Always the gentleman, he even opened the door for Noel before going around the car to sit in the driver seat. The interior of the car was nice, well kept and clean. It also had racecar seats. With as much get up and go as the car had it was only fitting.

Boys and their toys.

Fifteen minutes ago Noel hadn't know that Haven had a garage. Now Noel was sliding into an already humming vehicle, the Ranger's already humming vehicle. As he rounded the car to get to the driver's side Noel forcibly untangled the knot that was trying to coil up in the pit of her stomach. He was just being nice. There was nothing wrong with getting out and having fun. It was only wrong if she went out and worried the entire time instead of enjoying it.

So she let it go. Tonight was for having fun.

Noel couldn't say exactly what they talked about, but once she'd decided that it wasn't weird, it just wasn't. She dished it out and he gave it right back.

It was a little bit of a drive which gave Noel time for Noel to ask some of the harder questions.

"But really... what's the deal with cowboy boots? You are neither cow nor boy. Granted, I've only met you a couple times, but I've never seen you ride a horse. Is it for show? Or status? Are you a pretend cowboy?"

Out of the garage and into the evening. The sun was most of its way down when the they pulled out onto the New York City streets. It would be dark by the time they reached Wild West. Which was fine, dancehalls were not as fun before people really started arriving a little later in the evenings.

They carried on well throughout the drive. Eventually Noel decided to ask about his boots. Was he a real cowboy? The Ranger glanced over at her before answering. She might as well have just asked if he was really from Texas.

"My parent's owned land outside of Bryan, Texas. They had a some horses an' a few head of cattle. Put some animals on the land an' y' get Ag exemptions. Cattle makes it a farm. I did a little ridin' as a kid, just that I could maybe ride one in a pinch still." He shrugged and continued. "Wearin' boots is a big part of home for me, not jus' Texas, but in Aggieland gettin' y'r first boots is an event an wearin' them everywhere is the norm. It's a part of home I can always have."

After a short pause he smiled and added, "Not t' mention they're like walkin' on Heaven."


Finally they pulled up to Wild West, the parking lot had a respectable number of cars in it. The outside of the dancehall looked normal enough. He couldn't complain about it, Prospector's in Bryan had a cheesier look back when it was around. He stepped out of the car and the engine died. He of course would have stepped around to open Noel's door, to him chivalry was not dead, but Noel had opened her own door. So instead he walked to the back of the car to wait before heading to the dancehall with her.

The crowd was mostly wannabe cowboys. A few were clearly displaced good ol' boys, but that was the exception. Many looked like they were ready to, as his mother use to say of fake cowboys, 'saddle up a barstool.' The Ranger held the door for Noel as they went inside.

It was like someone saw a picture of the Broken Spoke and said, "that looks good! Now just make it plastic and fake looking!" If it wasn't the fact they were playing Tennessee Whiskey by Chris Stapleton he would have been regretting his choice.

Pay the cover get the wristband. Move to the bar to secure liquor.

"Still don't do whiskey?"

The Texas talk only raised more questions, though it did put off her curiosity about the boots. For now, anyway.

"That's such a culture shift from New York. Is that like a Quinceañera for little Texan boys and girls?" Even people without memory problems needed those same touchstones to keep with their roots.

"I understand wanting to have something to remind you of who you are. Footwear's just a new one to me." Not a facial scar or a tattoo or any of the usual permanent things that hadn't turned out to be permanent for her. Maybe she would have better luck with something like footwear. Noel would have to train herself to recognize what it meant. With someone else to make sure that cognitive recognition kicked in, it was actually possible...

She made a note in her phone that would probably not mean anything to her later, but it was worth a shot. Everybody wears shoes. Can shoes mean something?

By the time she looked up again, they were there and the phone was promptly stowed in favor of getting out and ogling everything from the plastic wagon wheels to the sheer number of cowboy hats. Clean, fresh out of the box cowboy hats. The one by the Ranger's door hadn't looked like that.

> "Still don't do whiskey?"

"No? Not much of a drinker." Noel walked beside the Ranger, most distracted. There were a lot of tight jeans and belt buckles, too. It was finally setting in that she was absolutely not in Kansas New York any more. This was a whole other world. And when in Rome Plastic Texas, you were supposed to do as the plastic Texans.

"I'll have whatever you have?"

"That's such a culture shift from New York. Is that like a Quinceañera for little Texan boys and girls?"

The Ranger laughed, ”Not anythin’ so formal. It is more of a thing with the college there, but it has affected the rest of the area. I don’t think first boots are as big a deal in other parts of Texas.”

Noel’s answer to his question about her drinking whiskey both told him that he had best not order her whiskey and that she didn’t remember the time she had whiskey with the Ranger. And if she wasn’t much a drinker she might not care for or know her taste in beers.

"I'll have whatever you have?"

She’d seemed to enjoy an adult slushie the last time so the Ranger ordered a pair margaritas. Frozen with salt.. The reviews had said they were good here, he’d be the judge of that though. While he waited he turned to Noel and asked, ”Do y’ remember anythin’ about how t’ dance or are we at square one?”

Noel was having a hard time concentrating. The Ranger made their order, but there was a rather excited and foul tasting conversation bubbling on behind her. Something about goin' fishin', only she wasn't sure if they were talking about fish or people... It took a direct question from her neighbor to pull her back to the here and now.

Shoot. She'd wanted to watch the bartender to see how the glasses were sterilized.

"Uhm. Square one, I'd say." Her eyebrows drew down as she tried to concentrate enough to push the flood of bad flavors away. There were a lot of people here. A lot of people talking. She was a bit divided in her attention.

"I could cheat and be as experienced as you, but in my experience it gets a bit weird. Tau lu is a mirrored kind of sequential partner martial arts practice. Not good for anything but teaching you correct form, but I have someone else's experience." She rubbed at a developing ache over her eyes. Noel hadn't really been around a crowd in a long, long while. She'd forgotten what it was like.

"Uh. All of that to say that I only get to see things like you remember them. So parter things are a mental juggle to try to copy and flip what you might be used to seeing. Copying single focus skills are quite a bit easier."

The barman set down 2 green slushy drinks with what looked like sugar on the rim. It wasn't that the drink looked overly frou-frou, but he'd been talking whiskey and television and Hadden's private bar both had taught Noel that whiskey was brown.

"Margarita." That was pop culture enough for her to know what it looked like. Noel grinned her approval and took a swig. Ohhhh. Sour. That was a far preferable flavor to lies.

Noel seemed a little distracted as she answered. The Ranger guessed it had to do with the loud mouth behind her who the Ranger didn’t need to taste lies to know was full of it. His buddy seemed to be giving the first guy a run for his money though. A friendly game of who can be the most fake in five minutes.

Cheat? She was talking about using his memories to dance. He wasn’t quite sure how comfortable he was with that idea. It would get her up and going sooner, just having to learn to start with her right instead of left. The business of finding and feeling the beat is the hardest to teach, this would get her up to snuff immediately. It was just a weird thing to think that someone other than him would have his memories.

Noel gave enough of a reason to learn it the old fashion way. This was good, the Ranger didn’t have to figure out his thoughts on the matter of her having some on his memories in a hurry. ”Square one it is. I’ll get y’ up t’ speed in no time.”

Then the margaritas arrived. Recognition and approval came from Noel. The Ranger smiled back and drank from his glass.

The song changed to Fishing in the Dark by Nitty Gritty Dirt band. ”The hardest thing t’ teach is the beat. Y’ cain’t jus’ know it like a musician. Y’ have t’ feel it.” He tapped his hand on the counter to the beat and said, ”One.” on the first beat. After a few measures he continued, his hand still keeping the beat. ”Women start with their right feet. Step, together, step, step.” His narration of the steps lined up with his hand tracking the beat. ”Where it gets muddy is only one and four will always have a step. Dependin’ on the song the ‘together, step’ that should be on two and three might drift a little to match the music. If y’ can it is easier t’ drag y’r feet then t’ take a real step. Dependin’ on how much traction y’r shoes get.” He added the end with a glance down at her shoes.

”Y’ got a grasp on it real quick last time. Y’ll do great.”

He drank more of his margarita. Once it was gone, it would be time to dance.

She'd managed to pretty casually not mention how she ingested memories and was pretty dang proud of that. No point in scaring the neighbor off with the threat of her lips. Noel rolled those lips together when he said "cain't." It wasn't like it was funny, but... it was... quaint? Cute. Ugh. She stuffed that thought down and took another sip to wash out whatever showboating was wafting in from behind her.

The margarita had a strange effect. There was no burn because of the sour and it was cold from the slush, but she also felt some fingers of warmth after the fact.

His tapping brought her attention to the music. She hadn't really been listening before, but now she let her eyes wander while she tried to hone in on the beat he was calling out against the wood bartop.

Music was so far outside the realm of what she knew. This was the part where trust came in, she supposed. Noel wasn't feeling anything beyond what her margarita was doing and a building pressure inside her head from the crowd. One more sip. She couldn't go too fast or she'd risk brain freeze, but her cheeks were feeling warm.

She glanced down at her feet when he did. Her toes wiggled beneath the mesh of her sneakers. Oh Those weren't going to slide. "I figured I'd be on my feet a lot." Tennis shoes were comfortable. Not quite "walking on heaven" comfort, but good enough.

> ”Y’ got a grasp on it real quick last time.”

"Just gotta do better than myself." She was a fair hand at picking things up, especially with a little instruction. And now that he'd started that instruction she was anxious to go. Noel chugged the last of her margarita after she'd opened her mouth to say something and instead was cut off by a particularly loud round of laughter.

Ugh. She really just needed to get away from the bar. "C'mon." Noel tugged at the Ranger's sleeve. It was time to bust a move.

"I figured I'd be on my feet a lot."

The Ranger couldn't fault her, if you didn't know you wanted footwear that slides then tennis shoes were a solid choice. For those who lack their own Heavenly footwear. "Y' didn' think wrong." He conceded, "They'll work. Jus' won't be as smooth."

"Just gotta do better than myself."

"Yeah. So no pressure." He smiled. Whether she took longer or instantly remastered dancing it wasn't a big deal. He didn't take her out dancing expecting to have someone that was ready to hit the show circuit like an Aggie Wrangler. It was a journey not a destination thing. At whatever level they were at tonight, he'd be dancing with her.

The Ranger saw Noel chug the last of her drink and moved his to his lips to finish. It proved a good move as Noel tugged at his sleeve. He finished the drink and headed off wit her to the dance floor.

As they made their way to the dance floor the song again changed. Even if it Breaks Your Heart by Eli Young Band. A song with a nice temp for Noel's new first time two-stepping. At the edge of the dance floor he took her right hand with his left and put his other on her upper back. "Until y' get the hang of this y'll be spendin' most of the time goin' backwards. I won' let y' hit anythin'. Right foot... Step." He slid his left foot forward and narrated the steps, on beat, for Noel.

Step, together, step, step.

First, tell her the steps. Then once she had the steps good he would change to counts. Then the Ranger would only tell her the count when she got lost, or it was a weird hard to follow beat.

She stepped forward with her right. Right into him. Right on top of his shoe. It wasn't a world-ending collision. Just starting off in the wrong direction.

Noel looked down the lines of their bodies, betrayed by her own dumb feet. He'd said backwards. Flustered, she waited until he started again and made sure to go the correct direction.

"Not used to being bad at stuff, but practice is the best way to get better." She was obviously trying to think it through each time he spoke. Unlike last time, the tension in her shoulders mounted with nearly every step until she inevitably stepped the wrong away at the wrong moment, this time getting a little trampled by one of the Ranger's feet.

The furrow between her eyebrows deepened. She could get this. Noel just had to think better, or maybe faster. The crowded space, the attractive instructor, and the margarita could all take a hike. Noel was going to make it work whether it wanted to or not.

The first time they’d danced it was mostly smooth sailing. This time it was a little rough. Like an unpaved road. Before they cleared the trees to even start. Noel went forward instead of backward. ”It’s alright Everybody starts like this an we’ve got all night t’ practice.” The next ‘one’ that rolled around he started again. Step, together, step, step.

As they danced the Ranger could feel the tension Noel was holding. She was stiff in both stature and movement. Before he could tell her to relax she misstepped and his foot slid right into hers. He had a sense that she would slip soon and he managed to only knock her foot around a little.

”Try an’ relax, y’’ll get it. Tensin’ up jus’ makes it harder.” And then back into it. The Ranger narrating the steps on beat. Soon the song would change again which would mean a change in the beat. With any luck it would be still be 4/4 and a similar speed. Noel needed to have a grasp on two-stepping before he threw in a country-western waltz or polka. He would have to teach her to spin soon though, when the song ended.

Worst case he slipped the DJ some cash to keep the music rolling like he needed it.

The problem with trying to relax was that it was one more thing to juggle. She could tell the muscles of her back and shoulders to unknot, but without paying attention to them they slipped right back to how they were.

She could wrangle it. She could mentally stay on top of all of this.

The problem was, that it wasn't a thinking thing. Noel realized when she bumped into him again that she hadn't once looked at his face since they'd gotten out on the dancefloor.

Relax?

Noel looked up from her shoes.

Feel the music?

She noticed he was still smiling despite the situation, despite the fact that he was still measuring out their steps. It wasn't indulgent or exasperated or anything like what she'd expected.

"What?" She'd meant to sound suspicious, but it almost came out like a laugh. His dumb face was smiling, now she couldn't help but do the same.