Sorry, Ange, [ Claude says, clapping a hand on her shoulder as he guides her to a pile of napkins. He whips a pen out of his pocket and scrawls a map on a napkin, chuckling a little at the array of Xes -- it makes him feel like he's drawing out a battle map instead of a bunch of awkward potential-kissing locations. ]

Parties where I'm from are nothing like this. We'd dance like maniacs around the fire, hooting and hollering and singing our lungs out, and when that was done? We'd get to feasting, and we'd do it all over again, [ he says with a chuckle. ] Parties after I ascended were horrible, dull little affairs where the only thing people danced was ballroom, and we had to figure out how to use fifteen different forks instead of eating with our hands.

[ He pushes the napkin into Ange's hands. ]

...This here is my attempt at a little modernity, let's say. You throw a party that the people want, not that you want. [ He... probably wouldn't be holding a party at all. ] And the people wanted mistletoe.

[ He pauses, looking Ange up and down. ]

Which I know isn't your thing, generally speaking... but have you had your first kiss yet?

[ Sorry, Ange. He's prying!

(Don't ask him back. He hasn't.) ]