[The grip around his wrists stops the clapping, but it doesn’t wipe the soft but smug smile from the samurai’s face. He doesn’t even attempt to draw his hands away, instead his eyes narrow, looking far more playful by the moment. Is he maybe enjoying tormenting Scaramouche a little bit? Oh, definitely. There was a little sadistic side of him. However, he thinks it’d do the immortal some good.]

Maybe I’ll compose a poem for you.

[He’d have to consider what sort of poem would suit the Harbinger. What kind of feeling would he like to convey? It was all something he had to consider, and maybe he wouldn’t finish by the end of the day. It’ll be something on his mind though.]

We’re already together though, so if you change your mind while we’re out, I would happy making any detours. Hmm, maybe we should get an inn room? Birthday sake might not be a bad idea.