[ Claude doesn't stop twirling his fork, like waiting is of no consequence at all, like they've rewound a couple minutes and he's waiting for Sylvain to pick something off the menu. Which, come to think of it: is maybe a tad accurate. Maybe even more so when he gets the answer he's fishing for and then some.

Though his expression doesn't change, something beneath it sharpens. Interest, maybe, though for which part - that remains to be seen. Either way, this feels a little bit like a prize even if it's more like the suggestion of one. Better to purse his lips as if he's considering it and everything else at length before shrugging. ]

I'm that predictable, am I? How boring for both of us. [ Now to sit forward enough to prop his elbow on the edge of the table to prop his chin in his hand, still watching Sylvain carefully beneath that now smiling mask. Sure, he could give an actual answer to all of that, but who's to say this isn't one, too? ] Though if you're intent on bending me over anything, you'll have to work harder than that.