He inclines his head, shoulders leaning in slightly along with, mannerly. (He thinks. Fairly certain it's the same here, and it would be wildly inappropriate for him to do anything like extend a hand.) Well met, well met, as he attempts to mentally place which man inside might be Herr Eggers, if he should know anything about the family's trade, or positions of importance; a lost cause. Doesn't matter where, he has no head for social networking.

"You're free to steal away, Fraulein," he pronounces it awfully flat, forgive him, "though I fear my dry perspectives on sailing aren't any more interesting when I can breathe properly."

His tone is easygoing, because this is a perfectly fine event and everyone has been very kind and welcoming. Crozier appreciates more than he imagined he might, in fact— the Admiralty was initially deeply unhappy about the idea of indulging in these events in foreign countries, feverishly protective of any potential military intelligence to be sifted out of exploratory ventures. But the reception to purely scientific topics has been enthusiastic. Not as enthusiastic as the desire to hear about adventuring, of course, but fortunately Captain Ross is deft as anything at describing those, even through a translator.

"Is there much of a garden to walk through, out here?"