The sound of two pairs of feet clacked across the floor, oddly distinct from the others. One could tell by the slow thuds echoing softly across the floor, that the owners had all the time in the world to kill. Both of their feet were pointing towards the same destination; the entrance of the building. The leading pair, which had a dignified air to its movements, was clad in a pair of polished smart shoes. The pair trotting cheerily behind was wrapped up in all bubbles and cotton candy, more commonly known as flats or ballerinas among the mortals.
Polished was reading aloud from a book while Ballerina was busy tending to her paper bags. Just before the exit, Polished halted and put away his book.
“Ladies first,” he curtsied and stepped aside. He had clearly been ahead of her, but he still indicated for Ballerina to pass through before him. Her eyes grew wide with wonder. Did he bow just now? She stepped through, looking rather shyly towards Polished; “Why, thank you.”
As Polished followed through after her, he flashed her a brilliant smile and wished her a “lovely evening”. And then he was gone.
Brits. Such true gentlemen.
