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"Yes," Credence says, smiling at the floor at the memory. Until they'd reconciled, that memory had sat bitter and hard to think about, like a bruise. "Maybe...I don't know if it's that kind of place, or that kind of performance, but we might be able to dance again? Tonight?"

Where people could see them.

"I'd like that a lot," she says, brightening at the idea. It might not be that kind of place, or that kind of concert, but dancing with Credence again is definitely something she wants to do. The memory of that day--she'd tried not to think too much about it, the last few weeks, but it's been difficult. A surprising number of things make her think about Credence. It's good that she can think about those things again, and not feel sad, or disappointed. "You're--a good dancer. I had a lot of fun. It'd be nice to do it again, if we can." Whether or not people are watching. And if they are--well, she doesn't mind if they see.

"Am I?" he asks, surprised. "I mean - you are, too, you're very good. I was just...following your lead. I was learning from you."

"I just started learning. Maybe it's just--we dance really good, together." She flushes a little at the words, but stands by them. Some things just work better when you're with the right person. "Like--when we're in the kitchen cooking, you're never in the way. It just--works better, with you. Maybe dancing's kind of like that, too."

It's selfish, definitely, but he likes that idea. That things just...work better, when they're together. In the kitchen, or dancing in a record store, or...right now, walking to their first date.

"I think it must be."

And he squeezes her hand, very gently.

His agreement makes her heart leap, makes the quiet, bubbly feeling in her stomach feel a little fizzier. It's good to know he feels the same way. Good to know he wants to be here, good to feel the pressure of his fingers in hers, and she squeezes back, smiling at him. In this moment, she doesn't regret anything. For as much as the barge has taken and hurt, at least it's given her--given them--something like this.

The strains of distant music barely brush her ears, and Shiro looks away from Credence, away from their linked hands just long enough to search their surroundings. As much as she enjoys this part, the walking, the music is something she's been looking forward to as well. "Can you hear it? Is that where we're going?" She sounds excited, she knows it, but that's because she is.

"Yes - just across there."

The bar, completely unbeknownst to him but perhaps explaining the attraction, is very similar to the higher-class speakeasies operating underground in the New York of his home. There's a jazz pianist warming up the crowd, a number of circular tables, a few smaller booths - a dance floor. It's an eclectic crowd, from across time and space, some human and some not.

But everyone looks like they're having fun.

Shiro's eyes take in the entire scene, the juxtaposition of aliens in what looks like a movie set of a bar from a time before she was born. It's not jarring, though; somehow the scene just seems...right. It's right for it to look like this, for the people filling it to be there, for Credence and Shiro to be there. Curious eyes flick their way for a moment, interested, but it isn't every eye and none of them stay for long. Here, everything is normal, Shiro realizes, and the thought takes any remaining tension from her.

Still holding Credence's hand, she makes her way into the room, looking towards the pianist on stage whose hands seem to dance across the keys. "This is really cool," she says, a little awed. "I wish I could play like that."

"You could learn," Credence says, relentlessly optimistic if only on her behalf. "I'm learning magic. You can definitely learn how to play - jazz music."

"You think? I'm doing okay with sheet music, I can read the notes and play, but--jazz is different, I think," she says, but she doesn't sound doubtful, just considering. "I think it might be fun to learn, though. And if I practice more, maybe I can play without music, like that."

She smiles at him, happy to be there, to be able to talk to him again like this. "Is--I mean, how are magic lessons going? Are you still working with Quentin?" She does remember him saying that, before.

"Yes. And - Mister Scamander, a little. And I'm doing things on my own, with books. I found a lot in the library, they're - schoolbooks from my world, I think."

The reality of the education he never had is depressing, but he tries to stay optimistic. At least he can get it now.

He does a good job sounding optimistic, at least, and Shiro's happy he's getting a chance to learn and use his magic, instead of hiding it away. It's a wonderful thing, and he shouldn't have to keep it all out of sight. "That's great," she says, and if she sounds enthusiastic for him, it's because she is. "I'm glad you're getting to learn. Maybe, sometime--you can teach me something? Not magic, I don't think I can do that, but maybe something about it."

She's quiet for a moment, considering the idea. "Cold said maybe I should think about trying to take this test, like a high school replacement. A GED, he called it. But--I don't know. Only time I've ever been to school was in breaches. I don't know. It's good to learn new stuff, anyway, I think, even if it's not for tests."

The pianist finishes their song with a flourish, and Shiro lets go of Credence's hand so she can applaud with the rest of the audience. She still faintly remembers the feeling of being on stage from the last breach, but it's different, being in the audience.

Credence applauds, too, and the pianist rises from her stool to give a bow. When it dies down:

"We should - find somewhere to sit?"

Maybe later, they'll be on their feet, they'll - dance. But he'd like to sit with her, now.

"Oh--um, sure." Sitting sounds fine, and maybe later they can dance. There's space for it, after all, and maybe enough people will be dancing that it feels less public--not that she minds so much, but maybe Credence will be more comfortable. But for now, she scans the room, eventually pointing to a nearby booth with a good view of the stage, but reasonably secluded from the rest of the room with its high back.

"There, maybe?"

"That's a good place."

It gives them a good view, and they're close to the dancefloor, but they're not...exposed. The moment they've sat down a waitress in a short black dress and white apron appears, asking if they'd like a drink, and Credence swallows nervously and orders a soda.

Shiro orders a juice, and the waitress smiles and leaves them to go fetch the drinks. It's sort of a strange feeling; she's done this before--the ordering part, not any of the rest--but it feels different in a place like this, and with her current company. She feels--older, maybe. Just different.

"This is--I kind of like this place," she says after a moment, looking around. "It's kind of like a movie, you know? With all the different people here. I guess we're in it, too." Silly, maybe, but it does feel kind of unreal. Smiling, Shiro offers him her hand again. It's just nice, being able to touch him again, and she'd like to do more of it.

Credence smiles in his typically modest, secretive way - eyes down, head ducked - and puts his hand over hers on the tabletop.

"I've only seen a couple movies," he admits. "But - I think this would be a good one."

Better for her being in it.

He's got a nice smile. Sometimes she thinks she'd like him to not look so guilty about it, to know it's okay to be happy. Maybe he will, eventually. "I think so, too." It's better for having both of them, together. She's pretty sure it wouldn't be the same, otherwise.

His hand covers hers and her fingers brush against his palm, feeling scar tissue. It's different from her own, but still familiar enough to almost be comforting. "I know I said, but--I'm really glad you invited me. I really missed--spending time with you. You know?" And he remembered how much she enjoys music. That means more than a little, too.

"Yes. I missed you too. I don't have very many friends here, so when I wasn't spending time with you any more, it was..."

He'd felt terribly lonely. Isolated, even knowing he'd brought it on himself.

"I'm sorry." The words are impulsive, but still genuine. "I shouldn't have--I should have talked to you. About everything. Instead of just..." Instead of not. Instead of just thinking he'd finally realized she wasn't as good as he thought.

"I won't do that again. I just--you're really important to me, and I don't want to just give up again."

"I don't either. I - I thought it would make it easier. Walking away so I didn't have to be hurt when you leave, or - if you disappear. But it didn't. It just meant I was hurting already."

"I did that. Before." Maybe now isn't the right time to talk about this, but she thinks he should know, and if she doesn't say it now, maybe she won't. "There was--someone on the barge, my first year here. He was--important. Not like you, exactly, but...he was the first person who really saw me as Shiro, no matter what. Whether I was the happy Shiro, who liked food and friends, or--the other one, who hurt people and broke everything. Some stuff happened, and I guess--I was scared like that. Scared I'd hurt him, or he'd leave and I'd get hurt. So I told him I hated him, and that Shiro--the one he knew--was dead. And he left, and when he left, he still thought that." The words are difficult. Talking about Beyond is still difficult.

"So I guess--I understand. I mean, it's not the same, but--still, I mean, I don't care if it hurts someday. I'd rather be with you now. Even if someday you decide to leave. I'd rather have at least one date, you know? Something good to remember. Just in case."

Credence nods his understanding. The band are starting to set up on stage, another mix of humans and not, and he glances that way for a moment.

"I'm hoping we have more than one," he says, soft but bold.

The words are a reassurance, a warmth in her chest she'll carry with her. "Me, too," she answers, fingers lacing with his. "I'd really like more than one."

She's content to watch the band set up, and doesn't pull her hand from Credence's as the waitress comes back with their drinks. It's not a bad thing, people seeing. She's not ashamed. And it's a date, anyway--it seems right.

And for Credence, there's something about it that will eventually need to be challenged - most of his notions around this have more to do with courtship than dating, and holding her hand for all to see is as good a signal as any that she's not for anyone else to approach. He thanks the waitress, and lifts his glass, watching the bubbles rise.

"We should - I don't know. Drink to something?"

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