Any day spent with Cyrus was a day that promised to be eventful, to say the least. This was something Farrah had learnt early on into their odd friendship, and he’d yet to have a single experience with the other teen that spoke to the opposite. It was refreshing, maybe? Though more often than not Farrah came away from it feeling like he’d embarrassed himself more than usual.

If nothing else it was fun. Cyrus was so very unlike any other friend he’d ever had, and by now he was attached enough to the other teen to forgive him for anything. Even the mini heart-attack he felt as he walked into the theater hall to find Cyrus halfway up a pole that looked far too fragile for his weight.

Farrah’s gym bag met the floor with a soft thump as the hand that had held it retreated up to curl over his chest. “Of course..” He muttered under his breath- of course, of course Cyrus couldn’t wait like a normal person would. That’d be weird, in fact he would probably have had to call the police on account of suspecting an alien replacement if Cyrus ever did something in an ordinary way.

“I swear- you’re gonna give me gray hairs.. Is that even safe??”

It took a few seconds, but his heart had calmed down again, letting him stare pointedly up at his friend with what had become his signature expression of amused disbelief. “I don’t remember poles being involved in this number.” Farrah huffed in amusement, bending over to pick up his bag again to move it over to a corner with Cyrus’ things.

He peeled off his knee-length coat too, dumping it on top of the bag. This left him in a pair of black high dance shorts, and a red sleeveless top- all the better to move and stretch out in.

The papers hit the polished wood floor, and Farrah’s blue-green eyes flickered towards Cyrus and the pole with the speed of a startled deer. He was still crouching by their stuff, burrowing through his bag for his water-bottle, and the towel he expected he would find good use for later while his attention remained on his friend. For seconds he watched, before giving the tiniest little shake of his head.

“It’s too bad you don’t like the spotlight, you’d make for an amazing aerialist in a circus..” He’d taken a few classes on aerial silks, with the silly idea of running away from home to join the circus. Cirque du Soleil. Oh what fun that could have been. “Or maybe being a counterweight would be more your thing? climbing up and down to lower and lift the performers?” Now that Farrah could see. He laughed, and took a swig of his water bottle before rising up to his feet, back bent forward so his palms were touching the floor.

From there he grabbed the back of his ankles, perfectly folding over until his nose met the gap between his calves. “Mmmm, let’s just practice here, not like anyone’s using this space today anyway.. it’s kinda nice too, like being on Broadway or something.” He hummed dreamily, that crippling social anxiety forgotten only when it came down to his interests. Who would have thought having a focus helped with excessive thought.

“Did you warm up already?” Come to think of it, Farrah imagined it took a good bit of core strength to hang mid-air on a pole like Cyrus had when he entered. If nothing else, that alone probably amounted to some warming up. For himself, he’d straightened his back and was now rolling his ankles trying to get out the stiffness that came with the school loafers.

Farrah’s ribcage heaved with the huff of a laugh, all airy as he stilled on the floor. “Are you saying that lovely thing on top of your shoulders is just for decoration? Counterweight so you don’t fly off to the moon?” That’d explain all the colors, all decorated like the eaves of a house around christmas. At least Cyrus was always easy to spot in a crowd, and the last person to be shy about costumes.

He giggled as he grasped the paper Cyrus had received from their teacher, holding it up close with a grin while trying to rapidly memorize the instructions. “I’m just built differently? I think with a little work, we can get you to do the pike fold as well, though.. you’re not that stiff.” Without thinking he reached out with his free hand, curling his fingers around Cyrus’ upper arm before pulling it down, like he could force his friend to bend over and try. “Both hands on the floor, legs straight and together~” Even as he offered up his commands, Farrah’s eyes were browsing down the page.

It seemed simple enough? In theory at least, he didn’t think it would need that much time to get it perfected. In fact, something else was pulling his attention. Something tall, and metal. The former perch of his friend. “Cy, can you teach me to stay on the pole like that? It was pretty cool.” And just like that Farrah's focus on the paper had slipped entirely, though he still held it with a hand as his gaze turned to Cyrus, wide-eyed and excited.

Some kind of excited noise escaped past Farrah’s lips then, bouncing on the ball of his feet when Cyrus agreed. “Great! let’s ditch this then-” With a flick of his wrist he rustled the dance papers, grinning. “It seemed pretty easy anyway, I don’t think we need a full two weeks to get it down.” In his own estimation they’d need maybe two days of practice. This was all stuff he’d done before, and Cyrus was a quick learner. Child’s play. So he didn’t feel at all bad about procrastinating on it. It’d be fineeeee!!! Surely! (it would definitively not come back to bite them in the ass later)

With that thought in mind - or out of mind, really - he put the instructions down on the theater floor and skipped forward to meet Cyrus by the makeshift pole. “I don’t know, I’ve never tried before.” He’d never even played on the monkey bars, and his only experience with climbing came from the dreaded rope exercises they were forced to do in elementary school. Climbing rope was not a texture he enjoyed having rubbing against his palms, but by comparison the pole was all smooth metal. Smooth, yet as he wrapped his hand around it, the friction of his skin made his grip feel fairly solid.

After that realization, he let go of the pole and took a step back to watch what Cyrus was doing with the kind of focus that made his head loll to the side, and his lips pull together in a thoughtful expression. “So- foot on the pole.. hand there..” He tried to copy Cyrus’ demonstration, placing his hand up on the pole before putting his bare dominant foot against the pole, low enough down that if he fell the worse he’d get was a slightly sore ass. “And then… up!” And up he went for all of a few seconds, before his grip slipped and his foot landed back on the wood with an embarrassed chuckle.

“Oopph- wait, wait, I think I goooot thiiiiissssss- If I just- hold on-” So he tried again, shifting the way he was holding the pole with his hand until he found the grip that felt the most comfortable and stable to keep himself held up for long enough to look for Cyrus for approval or further instructions.