Aaron was young, naive, very trusting. He was more occupied with looking around the strange, frilly, totally alien dwelling of a woman than worrying about showing her his back, or being concerned about his bag when he put it down, or revealing how sensitive he was to almost everything, from the furniture to the curtains. When he did look at her, it was to admire her hair of the way her skin stretched over her collarbones under the fabric. He was very... surface. Or seemed so, anyway.
Looking up from the admiring, his expression clouded up a little. "Why?" Subtlety? No. Not much in the way of manners, either.