Bastien puts his hand on Byerly's shoulder for a sympathetic squeeze—and as his hand falls back to his side, with professional fluidity, positioning, and awareness of everyone's lines of sight all coming together to ensure Vega's eyes in particular are spared, for a fleeting moment grabs his ass as well.

He can set the table, though, yes. With Bastien's assistance, handing over dishes and flatware from the cupboards.

"I think it is more for our sake than his, at this point," Bastien appends to Benedict's explanation to Vega. "We were so worried about him, and we felt so awful for not seeing enough of him to notice right away. A few more weeks of bringing him milk and tucking him at night and we might feel better."

So earnest. Surely not an attempt to torment Benedict further.

"Why is it you had not seen much of each other before? Different social circles? Choice? Is there a generations-long feud between your families that your betrothal might have brought an end to, and those hopes were cruelly dashed when Benedict disappeared into the barbaric South? And what is your family like, Mademoiselle? Should I feel sorry for them, that you are here, or only happy for you?"