"Prisoner. I'm dead, too. Remember?" Soldat says dryly. "And I've got this hunk of junk hanging off my shoulder. If I can manage, you can manage, I promise." Anyone who can fight, can dance, of this they are sure. Anyone who can make such complex signs with their hands can dance. He just needs to be taught the steps. "If you're that worried about being gross, we'll just feed you up a little first, but you know I don't care." They're still working on trying to find some kind of food or fuel that will actually be interesting for Prisoner to consume, and have frankly probably made him eat a variety of weird food experiments by now.

They hadn't immediately considered teaching despite bringing it up, but you know what, now they are. "I will absolutely figure out a good place to teach people dancing around here. And you're both invited."