[ There's nothing but laughter from Claude at the events in quick succession: the well-timed smack, Hilda's flush, and her subsequent plea which has an idea forming instantly. That he'd forfeited his gloves - well, that comes in awfully handy right now. ]
Help, you say?
[ In a tone which makes it immediately apparent, not that the other two haven't already guessed this, that Claude's about to offer no such help whatsoever. Will that stop him from stepping forward with the supposed guise of it anyway? Absolutely not and same for reaching out a hand - only to run those half-frozen (to Claude) fingers lightly and teasingly down her face, along her neck and down to a collarbone and further. That fun can be shared since his other equally cold hand gets slipped beneath the back of Sylvain's waistband, just for good measure. ]
How about that for a start?
[ There's as much innocence as he can manage in there, which is to say: none. ]
no subject
Help, you say?
[ In a tone which makes it immediately apparent, not that the other two haven't already guessed this, that Claude's about to offer no such help whatsoever. Will that stop him from stepping forward with the supposed guise of it anyway? Absolutely not and same for reaching out a hand - only to run those half-frozen (to Claude) fingers lightly and teasingly down her face, along her neck and down to a collarbone and further. That fun can be shared since his other equally cold hand gets slipped beneath the back of Sylvain's waistband, just for good measure. ]
How about that for a start?
[ There's as much innocence as he can manage in there, which is to say: none. ]