Illya being the honey pot wasn't Napoleon's first choice. It isn't that he doubts Illya's attractiveness, he's aware of that, but rather his temperament is contrary. He stayed in the area, just in case, and now he's glad that he did. He would never say he was concerned for the Peril, because anyone who tried to fight the man was suicidal, but perhaps anxious was the better term. Really, Illya leaping out the window naked instead of fighting was one of the better case scenarios.

Napoleon is not above taking a peek, but that can hardly be a surprise. He appreciates a good view, but his gaze doesn't linger. He might like flirting with disaster, but he is smart enough not to poke an angry giant Russian bear. "Peril," he replies,
dryly. After that quick glance he glances away, serving as a look out while Illya gets dressed. "Her bodyguard made the wrong choice. A threesome is always the right call." He is already considering his own approach and line of attack, his mind whirling away. "Although I suppose that is assuming you wouldn't mind batting for both teams." Not everyone has Napoleon's permanent flexibility, he is well aware.