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Binx raises their arms, trying to remember the easy way Gwyndolin had sidestepped and swayed, the way she had moved like it was breathing. Gwyndolin is light and bubbly, and Binx doesn't see herself that way; she's stoater and stockier than her counterpart, and even now seeing through Gwyndolin's eyes, they can't quite get the movements to feel right. The space they've cleared is small, not quite enough to learn properly, too many recovered treasures packed into the space to create a real dance floor.
Binx huffs and lets her arms drop. They can figure this out. They have to.