[ At this juncture, unfortunately for Felix and his curmudgeonly bristle, Claude believes he knows him too well to take it personally (never mind that he'd never really taken it personally). After all, he might roll his eyes, might shake his head, but he allows Claude to sit there. Basically invited him.

Invited, allowed, and now startles a snort out of Claude. Sure, Claude might think he knows Felix to some (alarmingly) comfortable degree, but Felix doesn't usually talk up his own physical appearance. That's always been more Claude's self-inflating line. The guy can still surprise him, which really, this entire private concert stands as testament to. Both are good sorts of surprises.

Mischief crackles into the edges of his grin, vibrates in his voice. ]

Good for you, Felix! For a while there, I was concerned you didn't recognize what a good-looking guy you are. Modesty's virtuous and all, but there's modesty and then there's total oblivion.

[ And Claude doesn't seem all that bothered by the suggestion of either 1) Felix being more attractive than he is or 2) Claude being notably older than Felix. In fact, he has to figuratively bite his tongue against that amused delight, before he asks if Felix thinks he actually looks older, is it the beard, that's kind of the point, say it's the beard.

He does bite, nice and figurative, then twists his expression into a grimace as he looks down at the lute. Having left his gloves in his room, he lifts it in his bare hands, finding the proper grip. ]

And speaking of oblivion.... don't worry, kiddo. This old man has the wisdom not to quit his day job.