Olivia was actually surprised when the music ended. For a moment, she simply stood where they had stopped, breathing hard and coming out of her 'zone'. A second later, she stepped back abruptly and turned her shoulder to him, facing Pyotr squarely with her arms crossed.<br/><br/>The older man nodded. "It was good. Good. You move like partners already. This will be good." He continued nodding, eyeing them both thoughtfully. "Alright. We work. Each dance. Ten dances. Then you go home and think, da?" He turned his back to put on different music for the next dance and Olivia shot Max a sideways glance.<br/><br/>"See?" she hissed to Max, "There's<em>nothing</em>wrong with the way I dance!"<br/><br/>Pyotr turned around as a Samba came on. "Go. Together. You work. Feel it. Move with each other. Go!" He began walking around the floor in a wide circle, watching them carefully, nodding every so often. When the music stopped, he put on another, barely giving them time to breathe, forcing them to focus entirely on the dances and music, nothing but how their bodies worked together to bring it to life.<br/><br/>Eight more times, Pyotr changed the music, clapped the beat, urged them on, and then fell silent as they slipped into the dance on their own. Cha-cha, jive, rumba, waltz, tango, Viennese waltz, quickstep, and finally foxtrot. All ten dances of their sport.<br/><br/>By the time they finished the last dance, Olivia could feel the sweat trickling down her back. She was used to working hard, but not like this. Not one after another with no time to think. Even in competition they had breaks between the dances. And they certainly did no play the entire song as Pyotr was. It was rather obvious what Pyotr was doing, at least to her. Perhaps he thought sheer exhaustion would ease the tension.<br/><br/>Perhaps he was right.<br/><br/>Olivia sank to the floor, panting and reaching for her water bottle. Not a single jibe or insult could form in her swirling mind. She was simply too tired. And, though she could not admit it to anyone, even herself, the thrill and adrenaline of dancing like that had left her with a warm, satisfied glow. There was something different about simply dancing to the music rather than performing a routine for each piece. She liked both, but it had been a long time since she had danced like that with anyone. It was rather thrilling in its own right.<br/><br/>Pyotr saw the look on her flushed face and smiled to himself. He had been working with Olivia and Ben long enough to recognise that expression. For at least a few minutes, he had made her look past her hatred to the dancer within the man, whether she realised it or not. If all went well, it would be enough to convince her to work with Max, even if she never truly came to forgive him. It was a lot to ask, he knew.<br/><br/>Eventually, he nodded in satisfaction but gave them both an expectant look. "You will do this, da? You will go to Nationals?"<br/><br/>That was it. The magic words. At least as far as Olivia was concerned. Utterly exhausted beyond conscious thought, the mere mention of going to Nationals was enough to make her nod her head. Deep down, she knew Max was her last chance. Her only chance. And he was good. She could never forgive him. But she would try to work with him.<br/><br/><em>Try</em>.