Dionysus rolls up out of the beanbag, smooths his dress back down, and goes over to … better inspect Grantaire’s outfit. He makes a show of adjusting Grantaire’s various lapels and fidgeting with the cravat, mostly because if he goes another second without touching him he might die. Which, for an immortal, is saying something.

“The waistcoat I got you!” He remarks with a smile before rising up on his toes to kiss him. “You look very nice, love. Hot.”