"They do a good job at synthesizing wool," he says, tugging on the edge of his dress jacket. "At least I haven't been sent my parade red and blues -- those look ridiculous." Everyone agrees on that point, as far as Ivan knows. "Can I try something?" Ivan asks, nodding at her blanketed self. He's got an idea on how to deal with her slippage problem, or at least one that will make it easier to keep her warm.

It's when she describes the place she's from that his attention is pulled away from an attempt at further flirting, brow wrinkling slightly. "But-- no one had antigrav tech when you're from." He knows this. He knows he knows this. Unless she's not being literal? Confusion settles more firmly over his face when he thinks of that. No one builds cities that fly -- he can't imagine the costs, except that it absolutely wouldn't be cost effective in the slightest.