Eric's eyes danced with obvious interest - and certain fantasies whirling by in his mind's eye - at the way Belle's fingertips played across the necks of several wine bottles. He thoughtfully noted the way her legs moved and folded when she sat, and he sauntered towards a bar counter, sliding a bottle from a rack. Even while he uncorked and poured using the screw and glasses at the bar, his eyes were almost never on the work itself, but rather cast sidelong to Belle - in particular, plunging down her chest as she leaned forth to grant him an ample view. "I rather hope we shall both find much to quench us, m'lady," he replied with a smile, and sauntered close with a full glass, until he stood just before where she sat on the couch. The prince dipped a forefinger into the honey-colored wine, then traced the fingers across Belle's lips. He swirled in a light, playful ovular motion, but gazed at her with a bright fire in his eyes. "Sate yourself, lose yourself, with the sensation of my questing digit upon your sweet lips, sweetest Belle," he spoke more softly now, "Let your mind to free, and let us see what creativities and artfulness you find yourself enacting."<br/>