He turns, twisting around in the tight space to face Draco, his elbow propped on the bar, his fingers loose around the stem of his glass. "And I know I said we should agree to stay out of each other’s way, but..." He bites his lip. White teeth. Plush, peach-blush lips. Draco clears his throat awkwardly, feeling like an overlarge, white-and-pink beacon in a sea of Romanesque Gods. "I’m kind of enjoying this? Like... I think having someone on the cruise we know is quite nice? Or—am I way off the mark here? Are you having a good time too?"