"Salsa is a stranger to me, I admit," which he doesn't do with light heart, "but the remainder I ought not to have a problem with. We shall see how thou findest my jota. though I am first to say flamenco agrees with me better."

He lets them into the dancing hall through the door. A footman approaches and suddenly turns in a completely different direction; the pair obviously needs no any tending.
The hall itself is not crowded, but it is definitely not going out of business tonight. Fungal arrangements adorn every pillar and window. The music is loud and still swift.

The Mycologist turns to his companion, the glim-strings of his earring sending refracted light everywhere: "Do teach me the steps of this salsa. I am most curious."