~ Marcus with everyone else and Angus in the Great Room ~<br/><br/>The minute he heard the words come out of Tool’s mouth, Marcus cringed inside.  Did it have to be dancing?  Of all the things that they could have done to break the ice, dancing would have been the last one chosen by Marcus but what was done was done.  His gaze tracked the movements of Tool as he approached the women, hand outstretched, and then he glanced over at Angus, exchanging a look.  It was clear that his friend knew what this was doing to Marcus’s nerves but he only gave him a tiny smile of support before turning and moving to the CD player and putting on some dancing music.<br/><br/>As the beat began to fill the room, calling to the people standing in it, Marcus closed his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts.  He pressed at the nerves that were dancing a jig all their own, pushing them deep inside his chest, hoping they would stay there at least for a little while longer.  When Bo spoke next to him, Marcus opened his eyes and looked down, seeing the hand that covered the coin.  He swallowed hard, eyes flicking from Bo’s hands to the women and back again.  How could he get out of this?  There had to be a way.<br/><br/>The reality though was that he was stuck and like all good leaders, he would have to make do.  One would think that a millionaire former athlete would have taken dancing lessons and become a master at it but that wasn’t the case with Marcus.  Or rather, not the complete case.  He had indeed taken dancing lessons over the years, far to many to count, but the cold heart fact was that all the lessons in the world couldn’t turn him into a coordinated dancer.  It amazed him to this day, the reality that there was something he couldn’t master; high school sports had been a breeze and playing quarterback for Boston College wasn’t much harder but apparently the grace and skills it took to run around the gridiron and throw a leather ball were not the same ones it took to stroll around a dance floor with a beautiful woman in your arms.<br/><br/>Not wanting to admit his weakness, at least not yet, Marcus decided to play the age card instead.  Tilting his head in deference, he flashed Bo a smile.  “Why don’t you go ahead next?” he said, his voice light.  “I’m still a little winded from the trip over here and could use a few more minutes to regroup.”  He knew that he would have to dance eventually, to not do it would mean losing face and that was something he wouldn’t stand for, but going last delayed his humiliation at least a little longer.<br/>