Lucius's surprise is not well hidden and neither is his bemused delight. He'd thought he was being coy as he wrote out an address on the paper but, here, this man had just undercut his clever little fingers. He twists the pen deftly between his fingers and, unconsciously, his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip.

"What a salacious coincidence," he says and picks up the paper to flash the address. "This one?"

It's worth an honest laugh and he lets one bubble up as he lowers the paper. It's risky business this, always, but there ought to be some reward for tempting fate, shouldn't there? Upstanding gentlefolk with official stamps of business, with ledgers and proper jobs, have much more to lose than he does by admitting to his proclivities.

Lucius clucks his tongue and flips the paper over. In the corner, in fine script, he jots down a real address. His real address. Once he's finished, he tears that bit free and waves it a bit to dry the ink faster. Once he's done it, he holds out both the pen and the scrap.

"Not for the circular." He clarifies. "In case I miss you tomorrow night."