“Is it… so hard to believe my words are genuine?” The dancer questioned, the amusement blatant on his features. He would try to make friends and grasp this man’s attention until shoved away, as was his nature. “Well, if it makes any difference, I have always… appreciated art in all forms, I suppose. I dance ballet,” Luca mused, and chuckled soundly. “But admit it; you like my… cheesy compliments.”
"Yes.” The answer was curt, simple, and honest, like all of the speech Charon bothered expressing. It was not necessarily to be of offense to Luca; the ferryman had a difficult time tolerating most, let alone interacting and, what more, actually listening to what others spoke. However, he would tolerate, interact with, and listen to Luca - for now. “You dance?” He repeated, not sounding too interested, eyes glazing over the other’s appearance once more, now that he understood the foundation behind such a physique. “I will admit to no such thing,” was his reply, suggesting there was something to confess.
