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It starts with the sound of static and Copia’s ecstatic and triumphant shouts from down the hall.
“Ah-ha!! I knew it still worked!”
You poke your head into the lounge area to find him hunching over an ancient looking record player, dust puffing up like smoke as he sets the vinyl down. The cover art features skeletons dancing with manic grins- the kind of thing you would expect to find buried somewhere deep within the ministry’s Halloween decor, not Copia’s office.
He looks up at you with bright eyes, one gloved finger raises like he has just discovered a long lost relic.
“Spooky, Scary Skeletons!” He declares excitedly. “You know this one, eh? A classic!”
Before you can answer, the record pops and crackles to life- bouncy, fun and absurd, the type of tune that makes your eyebrows involuntarily lift and your lips twitch upwards into a smile. Copia, of course, is dancing immediately.
Well…it isn’t quite dancing so much as it is flailing about with purpose.
His shoulders jerk, his hips wiggle about; he points both fingers at you like a skeleton finger gun showdown.
“Come on! Come on!” He chuckles. “You cannot just stand there when the skeletons are sending shivers down your spine!”
You are already in hysterics- laughing so hard you cannot resist even if you really wanted to. He pulls you in towards him by your hands, his grin wide and unguarded as he spins you in a clumsy circle. Candles are flickering around the lounge area, shadows bouncing to the jaunty beat as if on their own accord.
“Watch this one.” He tuts proudly, as he attempts a spin that sends him crashing into a nearby armchair. You manage to catch him by the sleeve.
“Careful, Papa,” you tease him adoringly. “You’ll be the next skeleton if something ends up broken in here.”
He cackles, winded and breathless. “Then I’ll fit right in, Sì?”
You dance with him, laughing hysterically until your sides hurt and the world feels lighter than it has in weeks. The song is ridiculous, looping again as Copia hums along completely out of tune- which somehow, makes it all the more perfect.
Then, halfway through the next verse, something shifts.
Your shared laughter softens.
He twirls you once more- much gentler and less silly this time- and when you stumble into him, his arms steady you with ease. The record crackles under the last chorus, slower now, the melody fading into a ghost itself.
You are close enough to feel his warm breath against your cheek. His grin fades into something smaller, quieter- more affectionate.
“Ah,” he murmurs in a soft voice. “Now this part? I like even better.”
You blink, looking up at him inquisitively.
“What part?”
“The part where we stop pretending it’s only for fun.”
He hesitates for a moment- almost unsure if he has said too much- but then his hand slides down to yours, his fingers threading between yours. The dancing candlelight now painting him in a golden glow across the curve of his genuine smile.
Neither of you move for a long time. The record ends with a pop, leaving only your breathing and the faintest creak of the floorboards underneath your feet.
Finally, Copia whispers, “We make a good team together, eh?”
You smile, resting your forehead lightly against his. “The best one.”
And when the next record drops into place and begins to spin- something slow and romantic through faint crackles- you don’t bother to pull away.
You happily stay exactly where you are, swaying together in the glow of candlelight, and the ministry, for once, feels completely warm.