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The room was quiet except for the soft crackle of a furnace, and the oddly loud echo of nighttime... Mob lingered near a chest, absentmindedly sorting through stacks of cobblestone. Verity sat idly on another chest behind him.
"You said you could make any sound, right?" Mob asked, not paying too much attention.
"Correct."
"Then play something." He mumbled, raising his head to look at the yellow circle.
"What would you like to hear?"
Mob shrugged. "Surprise me."
Without another word, music filled the room.
A warm piano melody drifted from Verity. It wasn't what Mob expected, but it was nice.
Really nice...
"Huh."
Verity remained silent... and Mob turned back to his chests. A minute passed before Mob spoke again. "You've got pretty good taste."
"I am aware."
Mob rolled his eyes. "Of course that's your response."
The song continued, and Mob, wanting to continue the conversation spoke: "What's this one called?"
"My Gal, by Niklas Gabrielsson."
"Well, it's good."
Verity's smile widened slightly."I am pleased you think so."
"Man, this is the kind of music you'd dance to."
"It is."
Mob pictured villagers attempting ballroom dancing and immediately regretted the thought; he chuckled to himself at the absurdity.
Then Verity asked: "Would you like to dance?"
Mob laughed again, a fair bit harder this time.
"No?"
"Why not?" Verity asked, a bit faster than he meant to.
"'Cause I don't know how."
"I could teach you." Mob stopped moving items around, and a suspicious expression spread across his face...
"Oh really?"
"Yes."
"And how exactly are you gonna do that?"
He gestured toward the floating face.
"Last time I checked, you don't exactly have legs... or arms... or a body."
Verity was silent.. and for some odd reason it made Mob unsettled... he rolled his shoulders nervously as the music continued playing softly through the room.
Mob raised an eyebrow. "...Verity?"
"A valid concern." Verity responds.
"Oh, good. So you've finally realized why this idea is stupid."
"I did not say that."
"Then what are you saying?"
Verity's smile remained fixed.
"I am considering a solution."
Mob laughed... knitting his eyebrows in confusion.
"A solution?"
"Yes."
"To not having a body?"
"Precisely."
The song drifted onward... Mob waited, and nothing happened. He shook his head and returned to sorting through his chest.
"Right. Good luck with that."
A few moments passed... The piano melody swelled. Outside, a spider hissed somewhere in the darkness. Inside, the furnace crackled. Mob reached for another stack of cobblestone.
Then paused... Something felt... Different.
Not wrong.
Just different.
The room seemed fuller somehow, like there was suddenly less empty space. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, raising his hackles somewhat.
Slowly, Mob turned around and froze... he tended to do that when it came to his fight, flight or freeze.
Someone was standing beside the chest. Tall, dressed in brown and tartan... and atop those shoulders was that familiar circle. The same smile he had seen a thousand times before.
The music continued as though nothing unusual had happened. Mob stared, and the figure stared back.
Neither moved as several long seconds passed. The music carried the conversation for them.
"...Verity."
"Hello, Mob."
Mob pointed. "You."
"Yes."
"You have a body."
"Currently."
"CURRENTLY?"
"It seemed appropriate for the situation."
Mob opened his mouth... Closed it. Opened it again. Nothing came out.
Verity folded his hands neatly behind his back. "Would you like me to remove it?"
"What?! No! Remove it!?"
"Very well."
"You can't just ask that like you're taking off a hat!"
Verity tilted his head. "I do not understand the distinction."
"Of course you don't." The song reached its chorus. Verity glanced outside just before looking back at Mob.
"Now." His voice was oddly gentle. "About the dancing."
Mob barked out a laugh. "You're still on that?"
"You wished to discuss it."
"I made one comment."
"And now we are here."
"I feel like we skipped several steps." Verity considered this.
"I did."
Mob groaned and buried his face in his hands. When he finally looked up again, Verity was standing patiently where he'd been the entire time, as though manifesting a physical form in the middle of someone's house was the most ordinary thing in the world.
Then Verity extended a hand. "May I have this dance?"
Mob looked down at it. Then up at Verity. Then back at the hand. The music was still playing and as warm... and comfortable and inviting my seemed... it set off every warning bell ringing in his head, Mob found himself laughing.
"It won't be a very nice dance," Mob mumbled in a defeated tone, rolling his shoulders.
Verity's smile widened almost imperceptibly as Mob placed his hand in Verity's. Immediately, he regretted discovering that Verity's hands were terribly cold. Like something that was left outside for too long. Mob visibly flinched... and Verity's head tilted.
"Is something the matter?" He said in a clinical manner.
"Your hands are freezing."
"I see."
"You see?" Mob scoffs, crossing his arms.
"Yes."
"That's all you've got?"
Verity seemed to consider this. "I have little experience possessing a body."
That answer somehow raised more questions than it solved. Before Mob could ask any of them, Verity gently adjusted their grip... a clawed hand finding its way into the small of Mob's back.
"Your posture." Verity says flatly.
"My what?"
"Your posture."
"My posture is fine."
"It is not."
Mob scoffed. "I've been standing my entire life."
"Incorrect."
"What?"
"You are slouching."
Mob immediately straightened, and Verity nodded in response. "Better."
"I don't like that you noticed."
"I notice many things."
"Yeah, that's exactly what worries me." The music drifted through the house, warm and cheerful.
Verity took a small step backward. "Now." His voice remained patient. "One step forward."
Mob obeyed... Immediately stepping on Verity's foot. A sharp silence followed, and Mob froze.
Verity looked down, Mob looked down. The song continued playing.
"Well," Mob finally muttered, "that didn't take long."
"You were correct."
"About what?"
"It is not a very nice dance."
Mob barked out a laugh. To his surprise, Verity's smile widened.
Not much... Just enough to notice. The realization distracted Mob long enough for Verity to guide him into another step. This time he managed not to step on anything.
"See?" Verity said. "Progress."
"That feels generous."
"I am generous."
"No, you're not."
"I manifested an entire body for this."
Mob opened his mouth. Then closed it again. Unfortunately, Verity had a point. The pair slowly moved across the room. Past the furnaces, past the chests, past the crafting table. Mob stumbled more than once, while Verity never did. His movements were strangely precise, every step measured perfectly against the rhythm.
Almost too perfectly... As if he weren't dancing so much as calculating. After a while, Mob noticed it too.
The hand resting against his back was cold. The fingers holding his own were cold. Everything about him felt strange and unfamiliar. And yet—The longer they danced, the less alarming it became.
It wasn't normal, definitely not normal... but easier over time. Like his brain had simply gotten tired of panicking. Mob found himself focusing on smaller things instead. The pattern woven into Verity's tartan vest. The way his claws never snagged on fabric despite their sharp appearance. The way he somehow moved perfectly in time with the music.
Not a step early. Not a step late. Perfect.
It should have looked robotic... Calculated and artificial.
Instead, it looked effortless. As though dancing was as natural to him as breathing.
Though Mob wasn't entirely convinced Verity breathed.
"You're really good at this."
"I have studied dancing."
"Studied it?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Verity paused. The question seemed to catch him off guard. Which was a rare occurrence when it came to him.
"I was curious."
Mob laughed.
"Of course you were."
The song neared its end... and outside, dawn was beginning to creep over the horizon. The darkness beyond the windows had softened into shades of blue.Neither of them spoke for a moment. The music carried the silence comfortably enough. Then Mob glanced up and for the first time since Verity had appeared, he wasn't staring at the impossible body or wondering how it worked.
He was simply looking at him... And for a brief moment, Verity looked almost...Content.
The thought vanished as quickly as it came. The song swelled towards its final chorus.
Mob released Verity's hand. "Well."
"Well," Verity echoed.
Mob rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly aware of how ridiculous the entire evening had been. Hours ago he'd been mining. Now he'd spent the night ballroom dancing with a smiley face.
"I told you it wouldn't be a nice one." He laughed weakly. The music had stopped. Yet Verity's hand remained resting lightly against his back.
"I disagree." Verity hums, his smile a little too wide.