[ Bastien's mouth pulls wide with a mild sort of skepticism, at the argument that Wysteria is incapable of embarrassment, before abandoning it for a smile at ma biquette. Charming. Not a dynamic he'd ever want to emulate, but—charming.
Keeping up with her is easy; he's taller, if not as tall as Valentine. Keeping up while maintaining the impression of a casual stroll, less so. But he does try. And what he lacks in peak local fashion, he makes up for somewhat with peak local posture, shoulders and arms and chin all positioned to match the average man on the street, with the understated confidence that lets him go all sorts of places without people thinking he doesn't belong. He is even reading as he walks, glancing up only briefly when Wysteria stops, resuming when she resumes. ]
no subject
Keeping up with her is easy; he's taller, if not as tall as Valentine. Keeping up while maintaining the impression of a casual stroll, less so. But he does try. And what he lacks in peak local fashion, he makes up for somewhat with peak local posture, shoulders and arms and chin all positioned to match the average man on the street, with the understated confidence that lets him go all sorts of places without people thinking he doesn't belong. He is even reading as he walks, glancing up only briefly when Wysteria stops, resuming when she resumes. ]
If it doesn't matter, [ is mild, ] I think I should be a gentleman gambler and Monsieur de Foncé should be my valet.