Sylvain can feel both their eyes on him, but he doesn’t mind - soaks it up, in fact, shooting an amused grin over his shoulder at him as he absently flicks through a couple options in his closet. Not really interested in any of them, but he’s never had the same interest in fashion that Jesper or Hilda have, or even Claude for that matter. He’s more than happy to leave choices like that up to the experts, he just knows what he likes to see on them.

It’s only when he catches the sight of movement in the mirror’s reflection that he turns back around, leaning against the doorframe of the closet to watch the pair of them dance with an indulgent, affectionate smile. He loves watching them. Something he doubts he’ll ever tire of, even in another thousand years.

Jesper’s suggestion gets a grin and a laugh from him, however, as he crosses his arms over a broad chest, shamelessly standing there naked still. “What a good idea. Because I confess, I didn’t prepare anything, so at this rate, I might just have to go in a towel.”