For a moment, Jason found it horrifically difficult to understand the spoken word, let alone the difference between English and German, and he just stared at Kurt in disbelief at the younger man's uplifted face. Unable to string more than a few inarticulate noises together with any sort of certainty as to meaning getting across, he shook his head free of the thoughts that had immediately come to mind when Kurt had so charmingly insinuated that they could potentially do more than have a quick tour of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Occam's Razor indicated that he should just believe the simplest explanation: Kurt was flirting with him. But decades of experience and the knowledge that all of his lovers had been under one of his illusions or another when they had taken him to bed led him to the conclusion that the boy was just teasing.
Clearing his throat, he gave himself a moment to focus before he caught up the other's tail in his long fingers, tugging Kurt back into the alcove with a gentle motion. "Well, I was intending on taking an evening at the Plaza before going back to the school to be surrounded by the smell of gym socks and jam, but you're welcome to return if you'd like. I would appreciate it if you could spare a moment to take me back to my vehicle, however, if you've decided you'd rather sticky fingers than room service." His grin was wicked, despite his best intentions, and he found himself winding the prehensile, fascinating limb around his wrist slowly, his eyes still cool and calm despite the hammering of his heart against his ribs.