Ravel just went along with it, being on Anton's arm. The point of contention came not from the fact that he was being led but from the suggested dance.

"Seventeenth cent- for the love of God, Shudder," Ravel replied, rolling his eyes. "You've not learned a single dance in four hundred years? What about the ones we tried teaching you in camp? You weren't bad at those. Not as bad as Hopeless, at least."

Not that that was saying much. He'd tried, with Hopeless. He'd really tried. And laughed.

He stopped on the dance floor and turned to Anton. "I remember a couple of the two-hand dances. We don't have enough for a set." At least Anton was going back too far to include any of the later step-dances. Erskine had enjoyed those as much as the next guy, back in the day, but there was no way he was going anywhere near that Lord of the Dance bullshit now.