It was a little strange to be sitting those close, on a bed, his body angled towards Arthur's, but not bad (did that make any sense? He wasn't sure it did). He brought the glass to his lips, but wasn't really drinking it as much as he was allowing the liquid to sit at the edge, his tongue darting out to the edge of the glass to get used to the taste of it all over again. He listened—because if he was good at anything it was listening—and decided that the lifestyle did sound nice, even if it was probably not for him. He may have not always fit into the little bubble society had created for men of his station, but he was not the sort to actively seek out the scandalous, the wild, the - adventurous. In most respects, at least.

"That sounds nice," he said honestly, because if anything Arthur seemed not-unhappy with his decisions; at least if he was going to ruin his life in society's eyes it should be in a way that he was happy with, right? Valerian could only imagine half of the things he did; while not living out of opium dens and drinking lots of whiskey, he probably did lots of other things that Valerian couldn't even imagine. "What's the most... adventurous thing you've done?" he asked, shifting in his seat—and accidentally moving closer, his knee pressing up against Arthur's. His cheeks tinted pink, but very quickly he brought his glass back to his mouth and downed a gulp of brandy. It went down easier that time.

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   Reuben Crouch