Before the students can leave, Professor Goodwitch speaks again.
"And that's all," she says firmly. "Remember, the dance is this weekend. Your missions resume on Monday. I will not accept any excuses."
A collective groan ripples through the room.
As they reach the doorway, Erik's gaze catches on a familiar figure standing just outside.
Emerald Sustrai leans casually against the wall.
Erik doesn't slow—but he takes note.
Behind them, footsteps approach.
Mercury exits the hall, stretching his arms as if the sparring match had been nothing more than a warm-up.
He flashes Emerald a lazy grin.
"Learning is so much fun," he says sarcastically.
Emerald snorts. "You look thrilled."
"Yeah," Mercury replies. "Beacon's full of surprises."
His eyes flick briefly—just briefly—toward Erik, who is already walking away, happily chatting with Pyrrha.
Outside the training hall, the late afternoon air feels lighter.
They spot Sun a short distance away, animatedly talking to Blake.
"Well, hey, Blake!" Sun says brightly. "You doing okay?"
Blake turns toward him. "I'm fine."
"So, uh…" Sun scratches the back of his head. "I heard there's a dance this weekend. Sounds kinda lame—but maybe not if it's you and me, right?"
"What?" Blake asks flatly.
"The dance," Sun continues quickly. "This weekend. Wanna go or what?"
"I don't have time for a stupid dance," Blake replies. "I thought you, of all people, would understand that."
Sun's smile falters as Blake turns and walks away without another word.
Pyrrha watches her go, concern clear on her face.
"She looks exhausted," Pyrrha says softly. "More than usual."
Erik exhales. "She's carrying worries that aren't hers to solve."
Pyrrha glances at him. "You mean the White Fang?"
"And Torchwick," Erik adds. "And whatever she thinks she can stop on her own."
He shakes his head slightly. "If she confronts them directly… they won't listen. They'll laugh in her face."
Pyrrha's expression tightens. "So in your opinion, what should she do?"
"If she knows something," Erik replies quietly, "she should tell those who can actually fight them. If not, then she should focus on being a student."
They walk in silence for a few steps.
Then Erik exhales and nudges the mood in a different direction.
"Alright," he says lightly. "Let's not spiral today."
Pyrrha glances at him. "Then what do you suggest?"
He gives her a small, knowing smile. "The dance. We've been very impressive at avoiding that topic."
She blinks—then her expression brightens instantly. "Oh! Right—the dance!"
Her steps slow a little as she turns fully toward him. "I was wondering when you'd bring that up."
"I figured I'd let the suspense build," Erik replies dryly.
She laughs, genuinely. "That's one way to put it."
"So," he continues, casual but deliberate, "are you planning to go?"
Pyrrha tilts her head, pretending to think. "Well… I suppose it would be rather nice."
"Suppose," Erik repeats, amused. "High praise."
She smiles wider. "It is. Especially if I'm not going alone."
He raises an eyebrow. "Is that an invitation?"
Her cheeks warm just a little. "Yes. Very much so."
Erik chuckles softly. "Then I'd be honored."
Pyrrha's eyes shine. "Really?"
"Really," he says. "Though I should warn you—I'm not much of a dancer."
"That's alright," she replies quickly. "Neither am I."
He pauses. "I find that hard to believe."
She laughs again. "Well, then we can be terrible together."
"Perfect," Erik says. "I was hoping for that."
They resume walking, steps lighter now.
They slow their pace near one of the stone benches overlooking Beacon's courtyard.
The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the academy grounds. The air is calm—unhurried, like there's no immediate place they need to be.
Pyrrha sits first, smoothing the fabric of her uniform out of habit. Erik follows a moment later, leaning back against the bench, gaze drifting toward the courtyard below.
"So…" Pyrrha says after a moment, glancing at him. "The dance."
Erik exhales quietly. "We still have a few days. I was hoping to enjoy my ignorance a little longer."
She smiles. "I knew you were avoiding it."
"Postponing," he corrects. "Strategically."
She laughs softly. "Of course."
There's a brief pause before she speaks again, a little more thoughtful now.
"I've been thinking about it," she admits. "Not just the dance itself, but… what it's supposed to be."
He turns his head slightly toward her. "And?"
"Usually, it's about expectations," she says. "How you look. How you move. Who's watching."
She shrugs lightly. "I've never really enjoyed that part."
Erik nods. "Makes sense."
She glances back at him. "But this one feels different."
"How so?"
"There's no title to defend. No audience to impress," Pyrrha says. "Just… people choosing to be there."
Erik considers that. "That's probably why everyone's so nervous."
She smiles faintly. "Are you nervous?"
He answers without thinking. "Not really."
Then he pauses. "Maybe a little."
Her eyes brighten. "Really?"
"Don't get excited," he adds dryly. "It's more logistical concern than fear."
She laughs again. "You make it sound like a supply issue."
"In my defense," he says, "formal events are unpredictable."
Pyrrha shakes her head, amused. "Well, we still have time. No pressure."
He relaxes at that. "Good."
She hesitates, then adds, "I was wondering… what are you planning to wear?"
He blinks. "I hadn't planned that far ahead."
She gasps dramatically. "Unacceptable."
"I was going to default to something functional."
"Absolutely not," she says firmly, though her smile betrays her tone. "We have days. That means planning."
He tilts his head. "Is this where I'm informed I've volunteered for something?"
"Maybe," she replies sweetly. "But only a little."
He exhales in mock defeat. "Alright. I'll cooperate."
Her smile softens. "Thank you."
They sit in comfortable silence for a few seconds.
Then Pyrrha brightens again. "Oh! And we should probably practice."
Erik closes his eyes briefly. "I knew there was a catch."
"Not now," she says quickly. "Just… sometime before the dance."
He opens one eye. "Define 'sometime.'"
She laughs. "When we feel like it."
"That's… vague."
"Intentionally," she replies.
He chuckles softly. "Alright. I can live with vague."
They stand together, ready to head back toward the dorms.
As they start walking again, Pyrrha slips her hand into his—natural, unthinking.
Erik squeezes it lightly.
"Several days," he says. "Plenty of time."
She nods, smiling. "Plenty."
To Be Continued...