"I'm no singer, but at least being a musician means I've got pitch. Let me think..."

A few steps of shuffling in silence, then: "Oh, I know. You might recognize this one."

Phil hums the musical intro, a soft and romantic lead-up, but he doesn't hum it all through like Hawkeye did. He sings. In French. He's got a gruff and untrained sort of sound, baritenor, just a notch higher than Hawkeye, but his ear for pitch is as on-target as promised.

He'd said he was a good dancer, hadn't he? Both of them did. After a moment's consideration, there's a slight push as Phil moves to slowly circle the room with him, all the while keeping one hand on Hawk's waist and the other clasped with his.