Bastien might have hesitated. It's not really an enthusiastic endorsement of the idea.

But he really would prefer to leave. He's been privately miserable for the last few days—for reasons he definitely won't be bringing up—and he doesn't quite have the energy reserves necessary for discussing this sort of thing at length, alone in his room, with someone he doesn't know well enough to relax around, staring at each other over sweets. It'll be easier in the open air, in sight of people going about their lives.

So they're going. He smiles with the casual gratitude of someone who's just had their errands made easier and stands up, first to fuss with the pastry and cut off the promised slice for the ferryman.

"It's good that you have your flat."