Majima makes a pained noise accompanied by a dramatic shushing gesture. "Nah, nah, nah! Don't go outin' me like that!"

His glance flicks between her face and the over-familiar touch. Between that and the insistent 'gentleman' assessment, he can't help but feel like he's being played. Just a bit.

Majima leans his hip against the table, and pops the rest of the beignet in his mouth. He dusts the powdered sugar from his leather gloves, then presses on before he's entirely done chewing: "This was my plan -- eat some free grub, rub an elbow or two. Maybe walk away with some new contacts."