[Brows knit as the mortal clarifies, that the words the Harbinger speaks can come off as being superior to humans - isn't that the case. What he learned when he first woke, when those around him aged, when they died, and he had yet to change at all. Unaffected by time and left to find his own way in the world, to find his own understanding and make conclusions on life without the guidance or input of another.

He was a divine creation, they were mortal, there was no comparison.]

Well... you are, aren't you? Affected by time with next to no magic on your own, my very creation surpasses your kind. But I don't see you as an animal, nor do I feel giving you my time is the same as wasting time with something that can't even talk back.

[Scaramouche shakes his head, he still doesn't understand why of all places the samurai's thoughts went there. Humans being lesser did not amount to anything similar to what animals provided, though he supposes being human himself, Kazuha has little understanding of that.

Offering up transience as reasoning for his methods and desires pulls a snort in amusement from the Sixth, not expecting the man to find enjoying from something quite like that.]

I am aware of transience, Kazuha. It the only thing that keeps life interesting.

[With a slight hum, Scaramouche pulls his hands away, either satisfied or the touch lingering too long for him to handle. He wonders briefly if the magic here would be capable of healing it fully, if that would be something Kazuha wanted, but swiftly scolds himself for the thought. They weren't friends, it shouldn't matter how well the other man's hand functioned after the injury. It didn't affect him.]

You do realize that you're terribly sentimental.