That awkward moment when you want to pick a song for a part of a scene you want to write, but you keep drawing a blank because you, personally, fail at any dancing that isn’t ballroom in a room of people who are probably 50 at the youngest.
On the up side, that is sort of how one of your characters feels about dancing. But the other one, who is supposed to be suave and Not Fail at this sort of thing is the one wanting to narrate.
Kirkwall Was Totally Built On a Hellmouth 