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Leorio catches himself swaying in time to the upbeat foxtrot, feeling a little light-headed from the champagne. He’s three glasses in, not particularly concerned about his alcohol intake; they’re supposed to be getting work done, but Gon and Killua are taste-testing by the open buffet, apparently having forgotten that they’ve also been hired to help with this job. Kurapika stands a few feet away from him, back stiff and eyes narrowed, sadly the only one taking this mission seriously. Leorio doesn’t see point. The security unit at the main gate is pitifully unintimidating, at least compared to foes they’ve faced in the past; he’d actually heard Killua chuckling when they arrived. It’s been a while since they’ve had such an easy target, Leorio thinks. He’s glad, he hardly gets to slack off anymore.
He finds his gaze drawn to Kurapika for the umpteenth time that night. He can’t help himself; it’s like witnessing an accident - inappropriately fascinating. Unsurprsingly, Kurapika hasn’t shown any sign of loosening up; in fact, the blond looks downright frightening, but his expression is not what has Leorio so enthralled. No, it’s the outfit. It’s …curious, to say the least.
Originally, the four of them had planned to arrive in the customary tux-and-tie, but there had been an incident at the tailor’s shop. Apparently, one of the suits had been irreparably damaged by a defective sewing machine. The owner, after apologizing profusely, was able to retrieve a scarlet dress from his workshop, a garment that had never been picked up by its previous wearer. He begged them to accept the frock as a token of reparation, insisting that the material would definitely sell for a high price. Strangely enough, Kurapika accepted the dress without a word of complaint. At the time, Leorio had expected him to pawn it, not to wear it.
He has to admit though, it’s a remarkably good fit. The fabric makes Kurapika’s hips appear exceptionally curvy, sort of like a petite woman’s. It can’t do a thing about his chest, however, but a large bosom probably wouldn’t suit Kurapika anyway, decides Leorio.
Not that he’s seriously contemplating this, of course.
He approaches Kurapika brazenly, not trying to hide the fact that he’s just a teensy bit tipsy. If Kurapika wants to start an argument, he’s ready for it. He takes Kurapika by the shoulders and twists the him around, aiming to get a good look at his face. Maybe stare him down a little, if he can get his eyes to eventually focus.
Kurapika raises an eyebrow instead of speaking.
Leorio begins. “What’s with that look, huh? Why are you so uptight about everything?” he demands agitatedly.
“Don’t you feel like this has all been too simple? We’re hunters,” stresses Kurapika. “We’re expensive. Why would someone hire us for this? For something so easily acquired? Something doesn’t feel right.”
“You worry too much,” says Leorio, waving off Kurapika’s apprehensiveness. However, doubt starts to needle at him. He knows that Kurapika is very rarely wrong.
“I worry the right amount,” is all Kurapika says. Silence falls between them, and Leorio notices that the song has transitioned to something more gentle and relaxed, a slow waltz. Couples flood the dance floor, the women's dresses twirling in brightly colored swirls. Gon and Killua are still by the buffet, Killua currently in the process of forcing a spoon full of purple goo down Gon’s throat. They don’t seem worried; farthest thing from it, in fact. Leorio envies them. He thinks broodingly over Kurapika’s dour misgivings - if something awful is about to happen, he shouldn’t waste the rest of his night standing around and drinking. He steels himself and turns to Kurapika.
“Hey, you wanna dance or something?” he asks, extending a hand, attempting to feign disinterest. Truthfully though, his blood pounds deafeningly in his ears, palms already beginning to sweat. He’s expecting a slap, maybe, or more likely, a lecture on acting more professionally on a job.
Kurapika looks incredulous at first, lips thin and expression dark, but slowly, his eyes soften - he sighs softly and it almost sounds like a laugh. Leorio doesn’t know if he should feel relieved or horribly embarrassed.
“Only if I can lead,” Kurapika replies, finally, and takes Leorio’s hand in his own.