[It's been a few months since Kazuha has seen Kaeya, but his reception of him doesn't lack recognition. He'd been hoping to see him sooner, but circumstances seemed to have it that they'd keep managing to miss each other. His keen sense of smell generally has given him an idea of where he might be living now, even if he hasn't yet just asked Diluc about it.

How terrible that they'd run into each other in these circumstances instead, with the uki only barely controlling his heat. 'Their little dalliance at the cake shop certainly had indicated they have chemistry,' a little voice at the back of his head reasons, and his skin feels like it's on fire as the taller man's fingers brush his shoulder as he fixes his clothes.

Kazuha take a final drag from his pipe, finishing what was packed in there, and holds it in his lungs until it burns. Politely, he uses Anemo to help direct the smoke away as he exhales, small leaves manifesting in the breeze.]

I took a gamble and lost, friend. A sailor knows that the wind won't always be in their favor, but he sets sail anyway.

[The taller man might notice, despite clearly being in the throes of heat, the wristband is absent from his arm. He'd removed it a bit too late, but it's gone now at the very least. Tapping out the ashes from his pipe, he puts one hand on the doorframe to his room.

Kaeya smells of cool winter, of mistflowers, and the hint of wine. It's a pleasant smell, and one that initially drew the samurai to him in front of that bakery. Now, adjacent to Diluc, he's become more familiar with it— the smell present in his home, a place he'd come to associate being welcomed.]

Would you object if I said I wanted you?