As per usual, Claude doesn’t miss a beat. Mechanics, huh? The implications make his spine tingle, his cheeks gaining just a tinge of colour though he doesn’t flush the way he did months back. After all, the bar’s been raised since then, hasn’t it? Very thoroughly. Looking up, it takes him a long moment to realise that Claude means for them to… go there. Inside that place. It’s all glass and mahogany and dear God, it looks so expensive. So luxurious. He’s very thankful for the way Claude runs his hand down his back, his touch adding some much needed steadiness to his composure. All carnal thoughts pushed to the side for the moment.

“Claude, I…” He pauses. Relaxes slightly, brushing an invisible wrinkle out of his clothes. Thank God he chose to dress up for this occasion – he’s never been any place this lavish before, perhaps apart from the Opera itself. “I’m not underdressed, right? I’ve no wish to embarrass you.”

Spoken in complete earnest, his gaze running up and down the elegant exterior of the building. It looks like a place for the rich, quite frankly, and the sheer idea that it’s connected with… with people like them is astounding to him. Of course, Claude’s already proven to him that the world’s not as black and white as he’d first assumed but even so…