"If all the rage means... good. Then yes, it is very good. Lovely." He smiles lightly, swings her a bit in the moonlight. She is so very different here, outwardly. She looks demure, like porcelain or glass or something fragile with her soft, pale skin and her bright eyes with their light touch of make up and her supple lips that make him lick his own out of habit.

He then smiles at her gently, releases her hand for a brief moment to squirm out of his jacket, letting it fall into the grass before pulling her into his arms again. It's too many layers, too much constriction. He only wants to hold her and hold her close to his heart.