He is certainly taking the opportunity to appreciate the view, but he's not really leering. If anything, he looks like he's appreciating fine art.

"That's because there is none to catch," he answers slyly. A few tentacles crawl themselves up onto the rock, dancing gently along the contours of her sharp talons. "The boys by the docks, though--they call me Boxer...if you want something to call me by."