Prim didn't so much have nails as claws, Ceph thought at the moment they sunk into his bony shoulder.

"Two, eh?" Ceph committed to memory, adjusting his imaginary perfect man for Prim in his head.

Despite himself, he genuinely laughed at Primrose's suggestions towards his ideal partner. Merlin, was he enjoying this conversation? Was there something in the wine? What happened to arguing and feeling he had almost said something awful to be uninvited and besmirch the Gamp name. He was always the well behaved son - had he got too good at that game with Prim or had they learned how to negotiate their controversial topics that well after a decade?

"I'd prefer someone who can put up with me, foibles and all." Cepheus admitted honestly, "Educated, enough to challenge an opinion without it being a constant battle." He flashed a knowing grin at Primrose and tilted his head back a moment in consideration, "Taller than me might be nice, but not essential." Ceph was only 5ft 9, and tonight in her heels, Prim was taller than him. Being slight didn't help matters in asserting traditional masculinity.

"We'll just have to keep looking." He nodded, "and if no luck, meet back here again, same time next year. Horrific."

He glanced past her, spying his parents also dancing, and looked back up to her. "Would you ever go for the starving artist type, if income isn't important to you in Mr Right?"

Two decades was probably a little much, but then again, she wasn’t entirely sure.  She’d need to be proven wrong, she supposed – and that was hardly going to happen.  Primrose was never wrong (at least in her head).   So, when she guessed about Cepheus, she was just pleased with herself. 

“I wish you the best of luck in finding someone to deal with those foibles,” she smirked.  She neglected to comment that he would need it, especially when the voice of her mother snuck into her head: there is a shoe for every sock even Cepheus Gamp.  Realistically, there were probably far more shoes for that particular sock than her’s, if she were going to be honest with herself.  Obviously not out loud.

Though, she was surprised that who he described wasn’t quite the starving artist she might have imagined.  Nodding along, she couldn’t disagree with anything he said, laughing delicately as he indicated he did not want a constant battle, and it was just about as wholly non-specific as she had been.  She wasn’t surprised that he was open-minded, though it was probably quite a surprise on her end.  “You might want to lower your voice,” she smirked, “if our parents hear you, they might get the wrong idea.” 

Sadly, true. 

But, at his question, Primrose wrinkled her nose.  “I doubt a starving artist might share my politics,” she noted, “and that would perhaps be an insurmountable obstacle for someone who I would imagine has quite so many feelings on so many issues.”  Prim liked to think she wasn’t the emotional sort, which could not be farther from the truth, but passion and excitement weren’t the same thing as bleeding heart compassion and outward shows of emotion. 

“So no, I don’t think that would be ideal for me,” she finally settled on that and pursed her lips.  “And I must say, I agree with you on the height preference.” A pause, “and the horror of a prospect of doing this again next year.”  She sighed, “Hopefully we both might be lucky in the upcoming year to avoid such a debacle.” 

Cepheus found himself grinning in return at Prim's suggestion to lower his voice, and then realised himself and straightened his face. He couldn't keep agreeing with her and enjoying her company!

"I doubt a starving artist might share my politics," Prim answered and Ceph shook his head,
"Doubtfully, different upbringing."
"… that would perhaps be an insurmountable obstacle for someone who…" Cepheus frowned a little.
"Certainly, and heaven forbid you meet them halfway with your own." He replied in a quick patter, corner of his mouth creeping up in amusement. Prim wouldn't take offence, she was firmly opinionated and everyone knew and respected her (to a point) for it.

"Hopefully." He agreed, the dance was coming to an end, and he took her hands gently in his upturned before parting and bowing to her very politely. He extended his left hand to her again to offer to walk her from the dance floor. "Perhaps I need a pair of those myself." He gestured with his free hand in the vague direction of Prim's feet, glancing down to admire her heels. "I can only imagine cushioning charms go a long way to making them bearable to dance -- oh, good Merlin, we've been well observed."

Cepheus gave a nod to his parents as they passed by to the edge of the dance floor, where he turned to his colleague and host, allowing her hand to slip from his raised one.
"Thank you for the dance, Prim." He thanked her genuinely. It had been fun, in truth. She had always danced very well in his opinion, and he'd improved over the years, though undoubtedly she didn't agree. "I'll go round up a queue of partners to keep you dancing tonight." He raised his eyebrows, widening his eyes and gestured with both hands, fingers splayed. "Best to start working on avoiding the horror of next Christmas right away. Though, if I don't have a chance to say," he smiled gently, "Merry Christmas." 

 “I hardly think I need to,” Primrose replied matter-of-factly.  “I’ve heard once or twice that it’s ill-advised to change one’s self for something as silly as love,” she noted with a wry smile.  Wasn’t that the point?  That it was supposed to be whole and true and entirely dependent upon who the person was, not who you wished they might become?

Primrose did not want to change for anyone.  If that was a requirement she would be happy to just deal with animals for the rest of her life: it would be no nuisance to her to tend to horses and continue her very important work. She was on the verge of a breakthrough, she could feel it.  She just needed the right push…

Ah well!  Come the following week and going back to work, Primrose would know what was in store and whether or not what she was going to try to bring to the table would be a success.  It made her heart skip a beat: all the possibility.    Or maybe it was the end of the dance, the prospect of going back to her corner and not having to do this for another second. 

She laughed genuinely after returning a tiny courtesy back to his bow.   She placed her hand in his and shrugged.  “You could put the same charms on those,” she glanced down at his dress shoes, “though I imagine they’d do much less for you than they do for me.”  She let her eyes travel upward and she finally met his eyes again and smirked, “Besides, I’m certainly you wouldn’t fill my heels half as nicely as I do.”

At the note about observation, Prim quickly retracted her hand and clasped both behind her back.   “It was…” she paused for a moment before deciding on telling the truth, “actually enjoyable.”  She hadn’t hated it for the first time in many years.  Of course the prospect of dancing with others did make her trip over her own feet just a little bit.  Ugh.  “You don’t have to do that. At all.  Though, consider it a blessing should I manage to find enough partners for you to do the same.” 

She smiled, hoping he honestly wouldn’t.  She didn’t know how much she could handle – and she looked around the floor for Amaryllis, sort of hoping she needed to be rescued from some suitor or another and she could drag her off for a bit.  Or maybe to the cakes.  Prim could use a cake now.  “Merry Christmas to you as well,” Prim nodded her head just a tad, “And let us pray that we are both happily situated before subjected to this holiday terror again.”  Another bright smile.  “Enjoy the rest of the party, Cepheus.” 

And she was off like a firebolt to find her sisters and desperately avoid the potential line of dance partners being cornered for her.