"I don't think anyone could ever think that you were a poor host. I mean, just look at this place." Philip gestured broadly to the spacious surroundings of the penthouse, which possessed far more grandeur than he'd typically had the pleasure of experiencing even in the more fortuitous abodes he'd been assigned in his youth. However, the sudden movement of his arm had been ill-planned and threatened to tip the contents of his drink onto the floor below. It was only by luck and the inherent balance of natural agility that kept any disastrous spills from occurring, though Philip was oblivious to the passage of this danger as he continued to examine the room with a look of exquisite awe. The underlying architecture engaged his sense of visual aesthetics, only furthered by the decorative touches of brass fixtures and a chandelier. Yet, even if it had been of simpler construction like a single room studio afforded only the added luxury of egg-shell paint on the walls, he would have been equally enthusiastic about the various objects that Steven owned, like the sleek beauty of the piano or the inviting warmth of the guitar's songs, and not least of all Steven's company itself.
"You've got so many interesting things to do and look at here, even if it isn't all unpacked yet. Not that I blame you. I've only got one bag and I still think I haven't managed to everything out of it." Of course, this had more to do with Philip's vagabond tendencies than actual laziness on his part. "But say you think once you get this place all set up, I could come around again to see it? I bet it'll look all the more cool."