[His eyes crinkle at the corners and he carefully laces their fingers together, giving the other a playful little curtsy.] Well, I can't say I can complain about being swept off my feet. [He places his other hand on Pinocchio's shoulder.] Though, I might have a few complaints if you break my toes.

[A few different songs flit through his mind. Old tracks he played in his office late at night.]

I've never been called that before. You can't be telling anyone I sing. [Wriothesley wouldn't exactly call singing a hobby, but doesn't everyone sometimes sing to themselves?

He hums softly to a song he hasn't heard recently, but one he happily listens to often enough.]