[ Sylvain didn't know what he'd been expecting as he finished up his own shopping for the evening, after enduring an overly enthusiastic sales girl's energetic outfitting for his night at the Masquerade. Not that he can complain too much, because the outfit she'd found for him was quite flattering, if made of a style he was wholly unfamiliar with. But he hadn't even gotten away from the dressing room before he feels something drop into one of his palms and he looks down to find a length of leather, curling its way around his hand.

He blinks at it, before following the line of the leash to... well then.

Red eyebrows arch upwards as amber eyes take in the display before him in appreciation. And a hint of amusement, since apparently he now's attained a hot man on a leash. Goddess, this store really does sell everything. ]

If it's the magic's fault, I don't think you have to apologize. Besides. I'm certainly not complaining. [ Lips curve into a crooked smirk, friendly and teasing. He'd try to hand his end of the leash back but, uh. It's not letting his hand go. ] Did you need walked to the Masquerade while I'm at it, too?