Thranduil smiles, and sketches the barest of bows, offering Obi-Wan his hand-- the palm soft, the nails neatly trimmed, as carefully put together as the rest of him. It's apparent that Thranduil intends to lead.

"Do you know this dance?" He inclines his head in the direction of the couples on the floor, all of them circling one another, coming and going as they please. It's late enough in the night that they need not worry about offending anyone- more than they already have- and so he feels comfortable dragging another rifter down.

And-- he really does enjoy dancing.