As macabre as that delivery was, it was given in that raspy masculine voice and Lucius is enchanted. (His tolerance for the macabre is also a bit higher than most, given the crew he's accustomed to sailing with.) He's tempted to say something banal, compliment his job or France but Lucius doesn't know a damn thing about France. He has a vague concept of which parts of the New World are owned by them, but that's hardly something he can flirt around.

Instead he takes a different route.

"I'm quite interested in the human form myself," he says in something closer to a drawl than a flirty comment. He takes a sip of his wine, if only for effect, and (damn it) this is a good glass of wine. What was he saying?

"But no tolerance for blood, myself, as I said." He waves his free hand a bit, idly, and fishes a notebook from his jacket pocket. "I draw. I prefer nude models but there are so few lately who will sit for me."