"Oh, no, no," Her eyebrows curved into a frown, she shook her head in refusal, "You promised me this wouldn't happen."
                              
"People make promises they can't keep," He said, offering her his palm, she stood - reluctant, stuck on what to do. 
                              
It descended into an awkward silence after that statement, neither of them wanting to address it, how it held more meaning than it was supposed to. They'd come too far to go back into the cycle of arguing, exceeding the fact they were acting like lovers.
                              
Nevertheless, she took his hand anyway, gripping it tightly as he dragged her into the forest of dancers. They joined their rhythmic procession of the waltz, hips pressed together in a different way, one that made them feel united. 
                              
She twisted her head slightly, knocking a strand of red hair, a piece that had fallen out of her decorative bun. It was a style he'd watched her work hours on in the mirror, twisting and curling her hair into shape. 
                              
She'd worked on the whole look, face painted, lips red to match the dress she was wearing; one that hung tight to her curves, the neckline slightly plunging.
                              
Though standing in the sea of the upper-class citizens of Switzerland, he could tell she felt underdressed in all the opulence. His guess was clarified when she mumbled again his skin, "I don't think I deserve to be here..."
                              
"Oh, stop it," Stephen twirled her around, her back was now against him, he lowered his head to whisper into her ear, "You're the most gorgeous woman here."
                              
She felt her heart skip a beat in her chest as he spun her around again, facing him again, there was a short moment where they were staring into each other's eyes. 
                              
It was a moment where they didn't have to say any words to know that the feelings they had were mutual. It felt like it was only them, dancing under the glow of the chandelier, falling into each other's arms. It was perfect. Stephen took the leap again, he wanted to lean in...
                              
BANG! The sound of a gun sent people running and screaming, three more loud shots followed. Wanda and Stephen separated, his hands crossed before separating, red circles formed around his palms. His clothes were now new ones, his Sorcerer tunic, the eye of Agamotto sitting around his neck, deep red cape rolling to the floor.   
                              
They'd gotten distracted, the arsonist team had managed to hijack themselves into the event, men with fearsome assault weapons stood in different positions across the room. 
                              
Wanda's hands sparked, she sent a row of armed mercenaries to the floor with a wave. They heard one of the people behind them sending a message to the others, "Stay alert. We have enhanced."
                              
The sorcerer grabbed the witch's hands, pulling her upwards to the upper balcony. She landed on her feet, steadying herself after the flight. "I've got this, you should wrap it up in here." 
                              
"No," Stephen extended his arm, drawing back one of his arms to send flickers ahead before turning back, "You stay safe, I'll deal with the nuke."
                              
"Don't..." Wanda kicked the person in front her, flinging them off the edge of the stairs, "Don't be stupid, Strange. I've got the ability to handle-"
                              
"But you don't have the training," He watched her give in with an irritated sigh, "I'm the boss, we don't have time to argue about this."