At first, being reminded of Charles' frailty, Victor longs to go to him, to kiss his hands and press himself into his embrace. However, as his perceptive gaze consciously follows each minute gesture and movement shared between the two men, seeing the touch which enfolds Charles' hand, it interprets it in the light of his own jealousy.
His eyes remain fixed upon Charles as his words stubbornly cut through any rising doubts, a feeling of loathing blossoming in his chest for the man who has placed him such a position. He draws his gaze away, and instead looks into the fair, handsome face of the man sitting beside him. Arthur is certainly charming in his military uniform, his patience with Victor and their situation only adding to his grace. It would be so easy to want him, to love him. In him, Victor could see, too, a trace of himself, though refined by that singular element which he has often found lacking in himself, and for which his father would have given everything to see in him.
"Charles loves him", he thinks, "And I? I am but a shadow". Though the confirmation of his fears blackens his heart, it serves to make him determined with vengeance. ❝—I want this.❞ He speaks frankly as it is in his nature, his hand moving to settle upon Arthur's thigh nearest to him. ❝—I want you.❞ He explicates his intent, though it's reflected in his warm blue eyes which gleam with yearning beneath the thick veil of his gilded lashes. He may not belong to anyone's heart, yet he has always been desirable in a worldly, carnal fashion; he is conscious of this fact, and artful in wielding it to his advantage.