[ the curtsy is a beautifully executed thing. aventurine observes the careful pleat of her feet, the way her hands gracefully part for the gesture, and concludes that this young lady - navia - must be well-practised in such maneuvers. there are strata to society. aventurine has always known where he belongs.

it's with a facsimile of warmth that he presses a hand to his chest, offering navia a thirty-degree bow, with the grace of a man who learned, rather than was born, to be. ]

Indeed, Miss Navia. [ aventurine says, with a rueful tip of his chin, ] I suppose it was a bit obvious. If I were a veteran, perhaps I'd have been used to being ordered around by paintings, and merely got on with it.

[ he holds out his hand. ] Will you entrust me with your hand for a moment?