"Thanks," Rook mutters when the coffee appears by his elbow. He takes a sip carefully, making sure not to burn his mouth. Then he settles to listen Midnight while he flips through the drawings some more.

"He seems to have that kind of grace," he comments. "Make sense he's a dancer."

He files away the little bits of information about his new boss. He's honest enough to admit that Ulysse has become something of a fascination for him. A fascination that will have to stay platonic unfortunately but fascination all the same.

"What kind of dancing?" he asks curiously then, not looking up from the sketchbook. So, what? He's curious. So sue him.