Silver leans over, just a little bit closer, faces inches apart. He quirks a brow again, tilting his head a fraction of an inch to the side.

"Truly, you're with the dregs of society." His voice is purposely low, gravelly as he finally leans back, plates in hand. It's a little cruel, surely, but he can't help himself. It's not every day you can flirt with a handsome man with a crooked smile.

"At the very least, at least you went to a fancy art show." He's dishing up the food, although not without a firm look at the other.