Marcus didn't just walk onto the floor; he glided. He felt the bassline deep in his chest, a rhythmic heartbeat that synchronized with the spinning disco ball above. He wasn't looking for a spectacle, just a connection.

"Out on the floor," he whispered, barely audible over the music but perfectly in time. "There’s no driving force what reveals the force to stop."

They didn't need a complex routine. They just leaned into the pocket of the track. When the chorus hit, the world outside—the traffic, the deadlines, the noise—faded into a soft-focus haze. It was just the "rock with you," the rhythmic "all night," and the feeling of magic taking over.