Sylvain audibly whines when he's told no, but behaves enough not to disobey either. He simply watches, whiskey-dark eyes following Felix with want. He looks a bit like a puppy begging for attention, brows tilted up just so.

At least he does until Felix's dance actually starts. Then his expression is pure enrapture. The light catches his eyes in such a way it's almost starry, his everything wrapped around holding Felix in his sight. He's beautiful and entrancing, and always has been. There'd been more than a few battles that Sylvain had been caught staring at the form and figure of Felix darting into the fray. Now though? Now he's allowed to watch unabashed. Follows every curve and flash of skin and silk.

It's beautiful, and then its raw and demanding his attention. He's probably not supposed to touch, but good luck getting his hands not to wander. When Felix draws near, it move on it's own, trying to brush along his leg. It's wanting, but in a tender, mesmerized way. Like Sylvain's watching the dance of something ethereal and celestial and all things out of his league. And if the music wasn't playing over it, Sylvain's fairly certain Felix could hear how his heart soars and thunders for him.