She turned towards him and Don Juan reflexively mirrored her movement. They'd already been standing close — the small enclave of this reading nook allowed for nothing else — but facing each other now he could feel the closeness. The air between them taut like the strings of Erato's lyre. "Of course you would have." He smiled. "She's meant to be a secret; the typical guest never would have stumbled upon her, tucked away like this. But she is very beautiful," he continued. He glanced to the statue for a moment, but only for a moment. Then his eyes returned to her, with an intensity that hadn't been there a moment before.

"You are very beautiful," he said. He wanted to touch her but was cautious of being too presumptuous; she'd never explicitly asked for this, at least not yet. So his hand found her elbow, something innocent and eminently forgivable should someone question it, but still enough to bridge the space between them and provide the contact he wanted. Enough, he hoped, to make his intentions obvious if his next words somehow failed to do so. "And I am very good at keeping secrets."

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