That Aimery is both aware of Jack's little game and willing to play along earns him more points in his favor than he knows. It's habit by now to simply do these things – get friends drunk, throw women at them, ignore how questionable a practice it is to treat said women like accessories and men like his own personal eye candy – simply because it numbs the ache, but the friends in question aren't always aware of the part they play. He likes it, though, when they are.

After clicking the lock shut on the door, he strolls along close behind Aimery, his eyes following the other man's movements in the mirror. (It's there for a reason, after all.) Now that they're no longer in public, Jack is not only uninterested but apparently incapable of keeping his hands to himself. One moves to catch the end of Aimery's scarf, 'helping' get rid of that, head tilted and eying the newly exposed stretch of skin like he has plans for it (...and for the rest of him).

-Oh right, talking. "Upstairs," he replies without any immediate sign that he plans to move that direction, but after a beat he does, hooking a finger between the bottom two buttons of the other man's shirt to tug him along.