That hadn't been too hard, Roman noted. At least, it hadn't been after he saw the pitying glance Logan shot him. Logan hadn't thought he could do it and Roman proved him wrong. He was still exhausted. He had been lifting weights and leaping around in a dramatic fashion for an hour, while dealing with privileged assholes who were, annoyingly, exceptionally good at what they did.

Roman glanced over with a scowl to Whitlaw, who was by the black stage, taking a swig of water and standing all alone. Patton was right. He wasn't very social.

"Alright, everyone," Winona said, standing up and moving to the front of the class, forcing Roman to stop trying to murder Whitlaw with his eyes. "We're going to do a proper warm-up, now. This is going to last the rest of the two hours we have left."

Roman whipped around to face Patton. "Two hours?" He whispered, in slight distress. He may be a prince of... varying acts of heroism but two hours of doing dance warm-ups with a class far out of his league seemed a little out of his pay rate and he didn't even get paid!

"Don't worry," Murmured Patton. "We do a mix of floorwork in it and get a few breaks in between, so it won't be two hours straight."

Virgil barged his way through the two of them, rudely, with a grunt. Patton made a small noise, one of mild surprise and annoyance. Roman gasped in his most offended regalness. Whitlaw ignored them, going to stand at the front. Roman turned to look at Thomas incredulously. Thomas shrugged and mouthed, 'He does it a lot'.

Then the door bounced open and a man, bearing a leather jacket, sunglasses and a Starbucks coffee cup walked in.

"Sorry, 'm late, Mom," He greeted casually. "Tried to cut up through town but streets were packed, right? Didn't miss much, did I?"

Winona sighed. "No, Remington, barely missed a thing except for one-third of the lesson." She narrowed her eyes impatiently at the man. "Now come down here, take off those glasses and your jacket, finish your coffee, teach your class and let me do my paperwork."

The man, Remington, nodded and sipped his coffee. "You're the man, Mom," He said. Winona glared and left the room.

Roman blinked, slightly surprised. He hadn't been expecting this. The man was probably in his thirties but looked a lot younger. He had a wedding ring on one finger and, under his leather jacket, were toned muscles and one or two tattoos peeking out from a loose t-shirt.

"Hey, bitches," He greeted, setting up a large speaker. "We're gonna start with the normal warm-up to get back into it, then gossip for the last few minutes and then we're all going home, unless you're Virgil, then you have decided to go and get more lessons. Now, are we missing anyone?"

Logan spoke up quickly. "We actually, at the moment, have a new student, Remy."

Remington, or Remy, spun around on his heel, whipping off his sunglasses to lock Roman with a stare from brown-or-maybe-they-are-gold eyes. "Oh, really?" He said, arching an eyebrow.

"The second Prince twin," Sniffed Whitlaw disdainfully from where he stood, not even looking at Roman, too busy inspecting his nails. "As if one wasn't enough."

A small setting in Roman's' head clicked. "What do you have against Remus?" He asked, failing to keep the bite back from his voice.

Whitlaw finally looked up. "He's a weirdo."

"Oh, and you're not?"

The dancer straightened up and, if looks could kill, Roman would've just been stabbed. "Says you, Prince, you're a little-"

"Ladies, ladies, chill!" Remy raised his voice above the arguing and Roman was surprised at how quickly Virgil backed down. "We're not here for a catfight, we're here to wave our limbs around in a way accepted by society. Now, Remus's' twin, what's your name?"

"It's Roman," Roman introduced himself, shooting Whitlaw one final glare.

Remy nodded. "Got it. Well, then, Logan, stick him next to you and we'll see how long he lasts."

Roman felt the ball of pride in him finally burst and he clenched his fists as he went to stand by Logan, knowing that if he was going to be 'dropped down' it wasn't going to happen until he had shown he was a better dancer than Whitlaw thought.

.-.

At six minutes to eight, the warm-up finally stopped. The moment the music faded out, Roman sat down on the ground, panting loudly.

"I have stayed up hours battling Remus in MarioKart yet that has been the most tiring two hours of my life. And I even go to school!" He cried, causing Thomas, Patton and even Logan to laugh. Whitlaw rolled his eyes, wandering over to the stage to drink some water.

There was a look of reluctance in Thomas's' eyes as he turned to face Remy. "Hey, Remy!" He called out, getting their teacher to turn around.

"Yas, Thomathy?"

"Which class is Roman gonna be dropped to?"

Remy blinked, putting on his sunglasses and turning to face Roman, who waited for the teacher to say he'd been dropped to the first class. "Well," Remy said, as Virgil finished drinking his water. "I have been thinking about that and I think the class he shall go to is..."

Roman held his breath.

"This one."

"What?" Exclaimed Logan.

Remy shrugged. "He's got enough pride and ego to be here, and that's pushed him to keep up with y'all. If that's his drive and that drive becomes a passion, we'll make a great dancer out of him."

Patton squealed, dropping to his knees to hug his new, exhausted, classmate and Roman stared at Remy open-mouthed. Logan nodded approvingly and Thomas beamed.

The celebration, however, was interrupted by Remy.

"Hey, Virgil, where are you going? We've still got five minutes of gossiping time left."

"I'm going," Growled Virgil Whitlaw, the student famous for being the only never dropped from a class, "To my private class." And, with that, he picked up his bags and marched to the door. He swung it open and gave Roman a glare of pure hatred before it fell shut behind him.

Roman felt the uncomfortable silence, and everyone turned to look at him. "Welp," He shrugged with a sigh. "He hates me."