Although he'd developed a sudden fondness for an American accent, now that he thought about it. He didn't want to be a creep, but he also wanted to see Irina again, so he clambered back down and headed for the open, green square that he imagined the photo shoot would be done at.
He was right: there were dozens of dancers, men and women alike, gathered in grinning bunches as a hoarse-voiced photographer tried to direct them to their ideal locations. Irina stood a little alone, watching with a small smile, but with her arms wrapped around herself and her expression a bit lost. She lit up, though, when she saw Mick, and waved hopefully.
Our mate is happy to see us, Mick's gorilla announced contentedly.But she looks sad, otherwise.
I think she's really nervous to be traveling alone,Mick replied. He'd been traveling Europe on his own since he was about fifteen, but he had the impression a lot of Americans stuck closer to home. Of course, he also had the even vaguer impression that most US states were loads bigger than the whole island of Ireland, and that that the five biggest states or so took up about the same amount of land as Europe did. And those states weren't even right next to each other the way they'd have to be to cover Europe. Mick guessed if he had to travel as far as Russia was from Ireland before he even got out of the country, he might be nervous, too.
Distances in those sizes meant absolutely nothing to his gorilla, which gazed at him with the gentle bemusement of a parent listening to a four year old relate their dreams. When it felt Mick was done, it suggested,Go talk to our mate,very patiently.
That was a fine idea. Mick decided to pretend it was his own fine idea, and went over to Irina, who looked ridiculously pretty in an American flag t-shirt and jeans. Her hair was up in a ponytail, but not full of curls, and she shoved her hands in her pockets as he approached. "You looked like you were scared to come say hi."
"I was—" He couldn't exactly say 'discussing it with my gorilla.' "—debating with myself whether you'd want me to."
"Of course I would! Do! I'm really happy you're here." Irina smiled up at him, the sweetest, shyest little smile he'd ever seen, and Mick felt his heart melt like an ice cream in the sunshine.
"You look great," he told her sincerely. "I thought you'd all be in your getups, though."
Irina laughed. "So did I, but since we don't have anything else on today, and there aren't any really convenient changing facilities here, they decided we could just dress like regular people. But they asked us to…" She waved at her shirt, then at the dozens of other dancers standing around, many of whom were in similar outfits, or colors that made it reasonably easy to guess what country they might be representing. "We're doing big group photos and then all the various countries who are here, and then some individual pictures, I guess. I met a girl from Nigeria, and an Australian, and two women from Japan!" Her eyes were round, clearly impressed and delighted. "I think I feel less bad about not doing so well last night. It doesn't seem to matter as much now that I've talked to a few more people from all over the world who have come here to do Irish dancing together."
Mick still thought she'd been robbed, but it didn't seem like the time to say so. "I'm glad you're feeling better. It's grand," he admitted, glancing toward the other competitors. "Seeing people from all over take an interest in the dancing like this, I mean. I'dno idea there was so much passion for it, really. Ah, there you go, he's wanting you to all line up now, I'll get out of your way."
Irina reached for his hand as he stepped back, and an electric thrill sizzled through Mick as their fingers brushed. "You'll stay, right? I mean, we still have a date to see Kinsale after the photo shoot, right? I could go see it with the tour, but I'd much rather spend the time with you."
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Mick promised. "I'll take myself out of the way so there's not this great lug in the background of all your pictures, but I'm yours for?—"
Ever,his gorilla prompted.
That was true, but a bit much to say to a woman he'd just met. "—for the afternoon."
"Amazing. I can't wait." Irina bounced off to do the pictures, and for the next ninety minutes or so Mick stayed out of the way, but still watched. There was a sour-faced man in his fifties who was apparently one of the judges, and who stood watching the entire photo shoot with a glare, as if he wanted it all to be over with.
Mick sidled up to him and nodded at the gathering. "What's all this about, then?"
The older man, who was slight but strong-looking in the way that dancers often were, looked him up and down dismissively. "They're participants in an international dance competition."
Well, if the man thought Mick was useless already, he'd lean into that. "Naw," he said, doing his best to sound thick and impressed. "What kind of dance? I've two left feet, my own self."
"I'm sure you do," the man said under his breath.
We could thump him,Mick's gorilla suggested mildly as the man went on, "Irish dance. Bloody competitors from all over the world, getting in on an Irish tradition."
Thumping him sounded like a pretty good idea, but Mick decided they'd probably better not. "Ah sure though, isn't itgrand to have people interested? Keep the tradition alive and all?"
"There's plenty of dancers in Ireland to do that," the man snapped.
"Are they allowed to compete in this?" Mick knew they were, since he'd seen county dancers being named in the performance the night before, but this fella didn't need to know he knew that.
"Sure and there's half of them from Ireland," the man said grudgingly. "And they'll take away the trophies, I'm sure, but still, I could do without the rest of them horning in."
Mick nodded solemnly. "Not that it would be much of an international competition if there weren't international competitors."
The judge gave him a hard look. "There'd be competitors from the North, and that'd be enough."
That was technically true, since the island of Ireland consisted of two countries, all of which were Ireland but part of which was also Britain. "There's that, I suppose," Mick said neutrally. "Well, good luck to them, then, and thanks for your time." He backed off, giving the judge plenty of space, and returned to watching the photography session.
Everybody, including Irina, was obviously having a good time, though every once in a while she glanced his way as if to reassure herself he was still there. Mick loved those little check-ins, and wondered if she even knew she was doing it.
She knows she likes us,his gorilla said.That's all that matters.
