So released, Ellis' hand closes in on itself. Forms a loose fist, before Ellis shakes his fingers out in a small, understated motion to mitigate the lost of contact.

It is a little touch, telegraphing familiarity. Bastien is given to them. They come easy, and they go easier.

Ellis trails behind him, up the marbled stairs. They are nearly of height. Ellis has a few inches on him, made more noticeable by how broad his shoulders are, all the muscle he carries. Observing Bastien as he is, the hitch in his rejoinder doesn't go unnoticed, only uninterrogated.

They are in a strange place. There is much to see. If Bastien's attention divides momentarily, Ellis can't fault him.

"Oh aye?" comes easily enough. "They have boots for that here. I saw them."

Platform boots, formidable even when viewed from a distance behind window glass. If it's height Bastien is after—

"Which way?" tacked on after, as they approach the landing.