He stands off to one side, watching with arms crossed over his chest. There's something assessing about the look, like he's examining her technique. Habit, probably.

"Not bad," he says, half to himself. But in another moment he's turned to look out at the city's broken skyline, and seems to be paying attention to that. He addresses her again after a moment, saying, "I always liked this time a' night. Something magical about it, no?"