This isn't the place he'd want to talk to Jean-Paul, of course. It's a relatively public location. Something, he supposes, can be addressed if it's needed. He could be wrong, after all. But he moved at the suggestion and settled into the chair. He swore quietly under his breath, a colorful Krakoan turn of phrase comparing the situation to one of the less polite plants on the planet and was normally used to express frustration with the world around them.

"The Gala. We need to talk about the Gala.