Gustavain, in Phillip's eyes, has never been a particularly forward person and while he's been energetic at points, never like this, never in public, never even in front of his family. The amount of leg and arm he's showing now is tasteful enough, but certainly more than Phillip's seen of him. There's something strange and bold, different about him now, and it's maybe a little easier to see, now that he's faced with him, the legend inherent in a lot of those rumors.

He still doesn't look much capable of murder though.

But even with all that, there's a delicate, almost sweet blush when Phillip lays his hand across his, as though he's not entirely sure what to do with that, as though it flusters him a bit. His fingers are bow callused, worn, in a way that feels odd compared to the memory of them. He grins a moment later, the look a moment before fading, when Phillip leans back and he quirks an eyebrow,

"Well, everything is a tall order. I think we're going to need more wine."