Hawk isn't a hard man to read. The languidness is very Rita Hayworth, and his eyes follow that gesture like a hypnotist's patient follows a watch.

"When you put it like that," Hawk maintains eye contact, takes that hand and draws it up (and himself down) to kiss Anzu's knuckles, "I can't think of any reason not to."

And then he glances reflexively at Lev, just to check the temperature.

"Lead on, MacDuff."