[ Sylvain makes a noise of protest when crumbs rain down on his face and he shoots Claude an aggrieved scowl. But then he's right back at prodding lightly at Hilda's ribs, tsk-ing his tongue at her. ]

Nope. She was the bell of the ball, our Hilda. Unsurprisingly. [ He tilts his head back enough on her knee to peer upside down at Claude across from him. ] Can you imagine she thought we'd be looking at anyone else? Or that anyone else could hold a candle to her? Claude, you've clearly been slacking on your compliments if she's started thinking like this.