It was with perhaps some measure of surprise that the stallion allowed what little of his gaze could be seen to return to the woman's own. He had anticipated entirely that she had not seen those lights he mentioned in an idle fashion so unlike the man to engage in. The very idea however that she had never been anywhere was a more unexpected piece of information, her life so having consisted of a handful of cities, it would seem, his own features frowning slightly in consideration of that. As far as he was concerned he himself had seen far too much of the world, or at least, the wrong parts of it. So much of his early teenage years having been spent attempting to make his way through Europe with as little notice as possible. Much of it spent trailing at night to avoid the gaze of prying Hunters who so sought the return of their missing warhorse and before that the only parts of those countries he had seen had been atop battlefields so bathed in blood he recalled little else. To say he had seen such countries was hardly a lie and yet he had seen merely the worst in each of them, his memories of either Paris or Italy decidedly limited to rain and dark streets in the middle of the night and yet there is little inclination in the man to mention as such. His own words that same, deep, cool baritone, delivered with little true emotion all the same- the longing within her voice though had hardly been missed.

"The food in Italy was good, France is busy, even at night. The fashion though, I fear, escaped my notice. I was only there briefly when I was about seventeen though."

It was more than he was often given to share with any and yet was this not the purpose of a date? To allow her some knowledge of who he was? That sharing of information a distinctly difficult for a man whom had spent a veritable lifetime concealing it. It required a trust of sorts that he was so unused to giving and yet for some reason he so made that effort all the same. If she knew his name she could be afforded that further knowledge of him. Frost merely inclined to believe that she would hardly take it upon herself to share those things he himself had retained for so long. It was difficult, more so then he had anticipated to allow another any true glimpse of that fractured past and too perhaps, his often difficult present. The stallion himself unaware to some extent what so lay behind those walls so high even he himself had perhaps forgotten those nuances of his own personality. At least, those outside that control he so strove to maintain and that near eerily calm demeanour that rarely ever shattered to offer a glimpse of the emotion beneath it. Perhaps he had become almost too good at concealing it. He reached easily then for another cracker, the man partial to that light touch of salt that lingered upon it. He was hungrier than he had anticipated, Frost often entirely inclined to forget to eat on those nights his thoughts kept him awake or he found himself given to considering what still needed to be done or even those nights he pondered the very woman beside him for far longer than he should. Nadya an infuriating creature when she chose to be and so without her knowledge, the woman distinctly difficult to forget if only for those emotions she so teased to life within him long after he had believed them near non-existent. This entire game of 'dating' was far newer to him then perhaps either had anticipated.

That soft utterance of praise from her lips momentarily saw his gaze return to her, that hint of a simper touching his features in what so threatened to be a genuine smile if only he allowed it. The man learning, still, to display any true emotion though such a thing continued to prove difficult and entirely...slow in its progression despite his efforts. How difficult it was and yet how determined he continued to be to try for this singular, ridiculous woman he seemed so entirely caught up with. That he had managed to at least achieve the basics of a date was pleasing to note even if, as always, he hardly seemed overly joyous all the same. The abrupt manner in which Nadya stood however, placing her drink neatly upon that blanket saw one eye lift upward with intrigue, the girl so seeming to desire some display of that dance he had mentioned. This, of all things, stirring that genuine chuckle to his lips. Cool lyrics uttered towards her with ease now as he so reclined in that near laconic position.

"Such a dance, Naja, is performed within the equine form and yet I think I might yet hold some ability to transfer it. Burlesque or not we shall see if you can keep up."

He is capable, if nothing else, of so rising to that almost teasing challenge he is afforded. Frost moving at last to ease himself upward and onto his feet, following her those few strides onto the grass before coming to stand before her, violet gaze wholly intent upon her own somewhere beneath that forelock of snowy hair. How long had it been since he had made any attempt to perform this? Such a cultural dance holding little place within those more modern times. The man never having attempted as such with one outside his own country and yet, patience, perhaps, was one of his better virtues.

"We circle around each other first, clockwise, then anti clockwise and yet we do not touch. Not yet. We return to the clockwise direction then, our hands meet as we change- let me lead from then."

She was a dancer by trade, she would find that rhythm he was sure, his own steps slower then they might have been. Precise, measured, encouraging her to find that pattern without music, the slender curve of her feminine figure hardly unnoticed with such actions before he took her hand in his own at last, so encouraging her to mirror his steps as she would have done were they within their more natural forms and both of that equine ilk. Such a dance involving quite an intricate set of steps that involved Nadya having to mirror his own movements, to part from him, to touch once more and return to that same smooth rhythm. It was, after all, a dance designed to....assess a partner, in a fashion. After all, it was the way of equines in some sense, lead and follow. This evening merely lacking any others they might have danced with, assessing them in turn before, at the end of the night, choosing that one whom had danced with them better then any other. Frost finding himself hardly distressed by the lack of competition.