( Fortunately for Urianger, dancing through the pain seems to come easily enough to him. He's glad for it: he so rarely takes the time to do something whimsical and silly for himself, and it's fun to share such a moment with his dear friend. The twinge becomes a stab, which becomes a steadily increasing ache, but with Thancred's hand warm at his back and their palms pressed together it's hard to care overmuch. )

Hm ...

( Urianger feigns pondering his answer, his lips quirking as they move together through a few more steps. )

Thy form seems pleasing enough, to be sure. Be as that may, no researcher worthy of the title would decide on their conclusion on the basis of a single experiment.

( He lifts his chin just a little, exhaling sharply when a particularly uncomfortable spike of pain lances through his leg. Urianger wobbles: his lips part in surprise before quickly closing again, and he blinks just the once before managing to correct himself. )

Forgive me — 'tis apparently mine own form that needeth work.