[Zenyatta almost bursts out laughing- but, fortunately for whatever dignity Bardo might have left, his self-possession gets the better of his giggles and he simply bows his head in what he hopes is a rather more modest display of amusement. A monk wouldn't stoop so low as schadenfreude.

Though, technically speaking, Zenyatta decides, he has not been a monk for quite some time.

That said, when Bardo accepts his hand Zenyatta does little more than rearrange him into what he has already learned is a fairly traditional hold, the fingers of one pair of hands laced while his other comes to rest on the subtle divot of his waist.

Light though his touch is, he can still appreciate the firm muscle beneath Bardo's clothes, strong in a way that he had not anticipated. As the music swells and he leads him away to a round of applause, Zenyatta looks curiously up into his face.]

You are lighter on your feet than I expected, my friend! Is it feline, or is it a talent you have nurtured yourself?