By the time Gustave returns, Verso is seated on the stool, peering over at Gustave's work with an amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Probably the first time he's smiled all week.

"You're sketching gestrals now?" he asks, instead of answering about red or white (because as long as it has alcohol content, it really doesn't matter). He's pleased that Gustave is drawing them — or, well, gestral inventions piloted by gestrals, which is really the same thing. "I knew you were pretending not to like them."