Very thorough. [And crisply decided and to-the-point, which he can appreciate. Christopher Marlowe was doomed at birth to stick out in a crowd, but in terms of presentation, in times past it'd been a matter of conscious choice, not potential ignorance.] I seized upon the right person.

[And on point, too, as assessments go. A wisp of a smile surfaces at Connor's guess as to why he's kept long sleeves, following Connor as he tracks the other's progress. Such attention on his person from a stranger; he ought to be flattered, even from a purely objective standpoint. Mostly, though, he's just glad to feel on the verge of presentable. He wants to explore more of the inner city today, and to that end, had wanted to rekindle some of his sharp, conscious sense of style.

The circling critique has the added effect of giving him a clear view in return, and there comes a point when the Connor's peculiarly adorned doublet (jacket, he's been told) and accent stop being the preeminent quirks about him. They must make space for the small circle of light at his temple to rise to the top of the list.

Well, now.

He picks up the moment of contemplation, lets it run another beat or two, scrutinizing Connor as much as he's being scrutinized.]

That's just the kind of reviewal I was looking for. And if I were to, say, visit what they call the cinema, does the taste run casual or formal?