It isn't at all difficult for Obi-Wan to melt into the kiss, his lips parting, his tongue meeting Klaus's as his eyes close. The hand he had on Klaus's back slides up, under the curtain of his hair, to cup the back of his neck. Around them, he's aware of the other people, the pulse of the music, the shifting of the crowd as they dance. He's aware of it all, but still entirely focused on Klaus and the weight of him in his lap, how much he feels when they're together.

This was never meant for him. He never thought it could be and yet here they are, no matter what he may have thought. To be wrong is such a wonderful thing, he's found, to constantly be learning is a gift.

He would have left the Jedi Order for Satine, had she asked. He would do it now for Klaus if he did.

At the sound of the whistle, he chuckles against Klaus's mouth, the both of them settling back into the seat. He sips at his drink, gaze flicking toward the person who had whistled out of curiosity, then back toward Klaus again. His hand is still at the back of his neck and he grins as he shakes his head.

"Oh, I'm more than happy with that," he murmurs. "In fact, I prefer that you can't help yourself."