[Scaramouche isn't the only one caught off-guard by the admission, with Aether himself not sure what to make of it. Why wouldn't he want to hate Scaramouche? He was Fatui, he tried to kill him, and the actions of the Fatui in Inazuma resulted in the deaths of countless innocent people, including one of his own dear friends. Aether held hatred in his heart for Signora, so it only stands to reason that he'd feel the same towards Scaramouche as well, right?]
[And yet there were still some unanswered questions, weren't there? If he really was a devout follower of the Tsaritsa and working towards the same goal as the rest of the Fatui... why did he flee with the gnosis? Why take something that once belonged to the very person who created him, and keep it out of the hands of the rest of the Fatui?]
[Of course, all that aside, perhaps he simply doesn't want to experience that anger ever again...]
[But all these thoughts are fleeting, and the moment that crane soars overhead, his mind goes entirely blank. Instead, acting only on impulses he wouldn't be able to explain, he steps closer and wraps an arm around Scaramouche's back, seemingly meeting him for a kiss at damn near the same time. The other reaches up, resting against his cheek before sweeping up into his hair, fingertips delicately drawing over the intricate braid woven into it. There's a gentleness in contrast to Scaramouche's forcefulness -- but no indication that the latter is unwelcome.]
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[And yet there were still some unanswered questions, weren't there? If he really was a devout follower of the Tsaritsa and working towards the same goal as the rest of the Fatui... why did he flee with the gnosis? Why take something that once belonged to the very person who created him, and keep it out of the hands of the rest of the Fatui?]
[Of course, all that aside, perhaps he simply doesn't want to experience that anger ever again...]
[But all these thoughts are fleeting, and the moment that crane soars overhead, his mind goes entirely blank. Instead, acting only on impulses he wouldn't be able to explain, he steps closer and wraps an arm around Scaramouche's back, seemingly meeting him for a kiss at damn near the same time. The other reaches up, resting against his cheek before sweeping up into his hair, fingertips delicately drawing over the intricate braid woven into it. There's a gentleness in contrast to Scaramouche's forcefulness -- but no indication that the latter is unwelcome.]