[ This time the surprise does ripple across her face. For all that they've gone to hell and back with and for each other, Peggy doesn't know too much about Cain — just as he doesn't know much about her. It hasn't impeded their friendship any; she would still dive deeper into the unknown hell of a dreamscape and pull him back out, would still fight at his side. Combat forms bonds, it's the oldest kind of friendship she's known.

But it's nice, she thinks, to get a glimpse of a life off the field. ]

I didn't realise there was much call for ballroom dancing on Mars.

[ It's teasingly said. Her smile softens some as she remembers, with a dull pang, another man entrenched in war who asked her for a dance lesson. Different time, different circumstances. The sentiment remains; it's a sweet thing to know how to do — for yourself and others, too. ]

I'd be happy to show you a few steps. What sort of dancing did your grandmother like to do?