She raises a disbelieving eyebrow at his decisive categorizing, giving him another nudge. "You know, you might be one of the smartest people I know, but when it comes to dance fashions, you are so close-minded." A part of her can't believe they're even having this conversation - something so casual, almost so trivial. Six months ago, she might've talked about something like this to distract herself from a tense moment, to take her sister's mind off of being in a dangerous situation. Maybe. The reality is that it'd be pushing it a little bit, talking about dance.

"Jazz, ballet, tap, modern, interpretative, whatever. You can't just categorize ballet as frilly skirts and pointe shoes. I mean, obviously there's pointe shoes, but that takes someone with greater training than I've got," Wichita points out, shrugging. She's seen one or two girls doing just that at the studio, though she figures they were probably dancing long before the island plucked them up. "Besides, you don't see the guys wearing tutus."