Jopson follows, even in the lead, grateful for the confident start. It’s nice, taking this slower, savoring the way they can press closer and dance as though they might in a ballroom, were things different. In this cabin the world can be nearly anything they wish - not quite the quiet freedom of the tent - but precious and important all the same.

Once he’s more confident in his movements, the hand at Crozier’s side slides to his back, beckoning the man ever closer. That he’s better than Kay earns both a sort of pleased smile and a self deprecating laugh.

“You’re only saying that because I showed you my backside, sir.”

But the praise will always liven him - make him bloom a little even under a gray, arctic sky. Each step meticulous, footwork so precise until his body starts to find the rhythm of it, until he can fully meet Crozier’s eye without hesitantly looking down every few seconds.

“I will improve by the time you schedule the next lessons. Assist the men. I will do everything in my power to be sure the festivities are a success, sir.”

So romantic, the dance - and yet he speaks of work.