"That I can understand." It's why he's out, too, or near enough. He swishes his own drink in his glass, then tosses it back like water and adds, "Come on," gesturing to the dance floor. "You can't loiter forever." Not when you're clubbing with Jack Benjamin.

Assuming Aimery doesn't protest too much (and if he does, Jack is not above using a little persuasiveness and charm), he leads them out onto the floor. He doesn't dance with the other man, per se, save a few tips and pointers early on if needed, but he stays near enough to watch, and occasionally even manufactures something to watch, picking up women and nudging said dance partners in Aimery's direction. The physical distance keeps him comfortable, but more than that, he enjoys the exercise in self-restraint.

To a point, anyway. It's easy enough to tell, if you're paying attention, who Jack is and isn't interested in, but if that isn't clear enough, after a few more drinks and dances he swings in close to Aimery's ear and says against the lingering bass from the last song, "Come back with me."

'Back' not 'home' because the flat he intends to bring Aimery to is little more than a crash pad, a one-bedroom tucked into the forgotten corner of some nameless building. It's discreet; that is its sole purpose.