Vincent chooses to sit and not just does the man choose to sit, he stretches his legs beneath the table which is, no doubt, a gesture that extends beyond the mere physicality of it. Claude notices it out the corner of his eye, smile widening. Prudence moves over to him quickly, bending down to shower him in her usual affections, kisses to both cheeks and a large hand on his shoulder. She is wearing a sedative, flowery perfume and her wig is arranged in doll-like curls all around her head. Really, she's a picture, but when isn't she? Stepping aside slightly so that she can catch a glimpse of Vincent as Claude is certain is her actual aim, nosy wrench, he holds out one arm with quite a lot of flourish. "Prudence, this is Vincent Fortesque." A rhetorical pause. He doesn't need to specify, does he? She holds out her lace-gloved hand, back up. "Vincent, Prudence."

You learn quickly that Prudence has no surname. She only wants to associate herself with her Family name when she is not herself at all and when it is the name she shares with her wife and daughter. Claude knows it, of course - has met the gentleman in the Opera often, because he's married to a woman of wealth with parents who are paying patrons. On meeker days, he's heard her wonder out loud whether Jocelyn maybe, perhaps wouldn't be able to understand, make the distinction, but they live in treacherous times and as much as she might be able to live without her wife's money, she could never live without her wife.

They all have to decide - on what's worth sacrificing and what isn't. Claude is no stranger to the concept either and, if nothing else, everyone in Ganymède knows it. Understands. Vincent, too, he's sure. More so with time.