Another short exhale of laughter huffs its way out of his mouth at the very clear and concise answer, small dragon-cloud of warm air accompanying it. It should probably be as simple as that. But the siren song of finger foods and the quiet of whatever corner's unoccupied seem to catch him every time.

When Viola spins her way back in, back close, Des lets his hand slide around her back a little tighter, but still well within the bounds of what's respectful. "There's never any rules." Not when it comes to people. "You think there's rules, but nobody's followin' the ones you are." He shrugs, jostles her fingers with it just a little. "Can never figure it out."