Stephen Schroeder's dancing contains multitudes. His supple athleticism, hunky charm, and subtle ambiguity have illuminated the eclectic Zenon Dance Company repertory for 12 years. Schroeder's moves can be quick and liquid, with the animal alertness of a panther or the friskiness of a puppy in ecstatic play mode, eager to manifest the battalion of impulses that inhabit his fully charged body. In Andrea Miller's Booba, he bounces around with the buoyancy of a drum major and the manic edge of the very scary. In other works his sculpted moves suggest a state of intense meditation. Schroeder has the rare ability to blend in with the ensemble while giving us sneak peeks into the diorama of a vast inner life. He makes the most convoluted choreography look natural, while allowing seemingly simple moves to reveal their intricate circuitry. Watch him connect the post-modern gestural movements characteristic of so much of Zenon's repertory with the elegant nonchalance of a cavalier in classical ballet and the easygoing camaraderie of a regular guy. On the other end of the spectrum, he can oil his way through a louche tango or channel a spring-loaded inner-city kid. In performance, Schroeder seems wired for anything and connected to everything.