[ The more he watches Sylvain process this, the more puzzled he starts to feel little by little. Claude had expected something smug, some cheeky commentary, or anything else which could fall in between. Something to match more of what they've tossed back and forth over the past months, if nothing else. Something predictable but in a comforting way like any easy routine is where the one they've developed is no exception. Then again - he's also learned there's much he couldn't have ever predicted about Sylvain.

What wasn't on that list of potential responses is something that feels oddly close to self-deprecation if he squints at it, even if it matches an earlier comment, and now it's his turn to feel something adjacent to uncertain. ]

Don't sell yourself so short, Gautier.

[ Self-preservation's waiting to kick in but Claude doesn't surrender to it yet even though he isn't entirely sure what to do with... whatever this reaction means. There's too much context missing for him to read it properly, he thinks, and there's been a lot of maybes said aloud between them both.

And he's no stranger to sweeping something aside to right a situation when all else fails and so he does just that, readying to put a wall back up as he fixes a smile into place and picks up the spoon he'd set down seconds ago to keep eating. ]

I have to say I kind of expected you to be gloating right now, but you look a lot more like I told you one of these dishes is poisonous but not which.