[Scaramouche doesn't expect the colour that washes over the samurai's face, the claim that he's spoiling him, unsure of where any of that is coming from. He hasn't done anything to warrant such a reaction nor such thoughts, at least as far as he's concerned. He's given the man his time and paid for entry to a place he wanted to go, none of that seems like anything special.

Had Kazuha's birthday been so bad that this was what he deemed as overly indulgent?]

I'm hardly spoiling you, I've done nothing.

[In his lifetime, he doesn't think he's spoiled anyone but himself. He certainly doesn't plan on starting now, he's merely offering what would be required of him on an outing with anyone - provided they were worth his time.

The Sixth keeps his eyes on the array of butterflies, mulling over just how much of himself he wants to offer. Kazuha already knew more of him than most in this world, the man was certainly privy to things even his creator was unaware of.]

I'll consider it, but... I like ume trees.

[The touch, though gentle, startles him, pulling the Harbinger's attention up. He makes no attempt to move away, allowing it for the moment even if he likely shouldn't. It wasn't the first time Kazuha touched him, he's well aware it won't be the last, regardless of how he chooses to act.

That the samurai asks of his wellbeing tugs at something inside of him. Such acts are not particularly commonplace with him, and he shakes his head in response.]

It has yet to do anything to me. A boon for being created by a god, I suppose. I can live in it and never grow ill.