Oh, you bet he was. If it makes you feel any better, he really got down on the dancefloor right after. It was that night at the pub, when there was that arm wrestling contest in the back that everyone someone managed to lose...

[ A flicker of wonderment is laced through her tone, as if somehow she's truly impressed by that feat. Between them, arm in arm, Aerith lets her gaze wander up, past the gray cobblestone and into the open, clear sky. It's always a perfect day in Aldrip— as the thought floats to the forefront of her mind, she raises her hand again, placing it higher upon Claude's bicep. How strange, to not once have a memory of rain, or any upset at all, really. ]

Speaking of... you doing alright, Claude? Lately, I've been thinking... I should be checking on you more often.