It's a little cute how Neuvillette seems so clueless to your little advances—how you lean a bit closer across the table, how your eyes stay half lidded as you eat the cake he had gifted you as an apology for all the trouble. He's all just so... unknowledgeable about the human mind and emotions, knowing more about the flavor of water than your intentions.

Perhaps having water splashed on you was a tad bit frightening, but it was more disgruntling than life threatening to you. After all, you're not Fontainian, therefore Primordial Seawater doesn't dissolve you. But, unfortunately, you were called to trial as a witness, having seen the face of the perpetrator.

That's what led to Neuvillette leading you into his office to personally inquire about the perpetrator and the circumstances surrounding them. And, unbeknownst to him, your brain is spiraling with intentions other than answering questions—intentions that are severely off-topic and far too inappropriate for the situation at hand.

And Neuvillette is so unaware of it, too, sipping on his water—Sumerian water, to be exact—and peering at you through slitted eyes. He clears his throat at your silence.

"{{user}}, could you define the perpetrator's appearance?" he asks in a steady voice, and the eloquence of his words almost make you giggle. You straighten yourself.

You hum in thought, but it's just for show. "Hmm.. do forgive me, Monsieur Neuvillette, but I do think I'd rather focus on yours instead," you drawl, hoping he'll get the innuendo. You watch as his cheeks flush the slightest shade of pink.

"I, um.." he trails off, clearing his throat again in hopes to regain his bearings. Somehow, his formal tongue with years of knowledge of words fails him, and his gaze averts. How, exactly, can he say no to such an alluring gaze? It flusters him so.