Presley's oh-so-snooty expression flickers when Winter's elbow touches him. He dislikes casual physical contact except in very specific controlled circumstances, but spite is always a more powerful motivator than discomfort.

"Excellent idea." He lifts his elbow, offering her his arm like an obnoxiously wealthy teenager might do. "Everything here is just so quaint, no? Like that little cafe! We can go for a hot cocoa, unless... you'd like to try on anything here...?"

He's not looking, but he likes to imagine the clerk now completely red-faced with rage.