There's no arguing that. Though Freddie's only seen the breasts in question through various pieces of clothing, he can easily assume that they're indeed very nice. Soft and milky white, probably, nipples the same pink as Noah's bottom lip.

He's fallen quiet, Freddie notices, his head still tucked against Freddie's shoulder and Freddie tries not to think about the last time he danced like this. It's been years, at least. This isn't the type of many people are ever interested in with him.

"Mm," he replies at Noah's question, a quiet 'yes' as he tips his head a bit so that Noah's hair tickles his nose. "Sort of thing you do for a wedding, isn't it? Even a wedding for assholes."