He smiled warmly; a little passive-aggressiveness never hurt anyone, it seemed. He spoke ill of himself and simply waited for her to deny it. Reaching to touch the hand on his arm, his eyes gleamed mischievously. "Does that mean I have your permission, mademoiselle?" he asked, only half-serious as he escorted her out of the hallway, hoping to make his way for the deck and a view of the stars.