[Scaramouche scoffs as the words leave the samurai's mouth, unamused by the idea that he could have possibly enjoyed watching the man calling out for him in the middle of a party. There's no entertainment to be gained from that, just annoyance and unwanted attention. He doesn't need, nor does he want, more eyes on him than necessary.]
Why would I like you making a fool of yourself and dragging me into it?
[The immortal shakes his head, Kazuha didn't go that route and he's thankful for it. Though their meeting had been unplanned and unwanted on his part - the conversation difficult enough that he isn't certain if he's glad it happened - he does find moments like this pleasant, hands gently combing though the other man's hair. Scaramouche moves his focus fully to the task at hand, soft hair between his fingers as he works a neat braid into existence and allows silence to settle between them.
It looks nice he thinks, set to the side as the vagrant normally did his ponytail - far neater than the mess that had become of his head before he began to work on it. Still the Harbinger can do nothing about the hair that curls and sticks out atop his head, how wild all of it wishes to be even as he ties off the end of the braid. There's a charm to it, not that he'll ever admit to it, even as a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.
When Kazuha finally speaks up again he's pulled from his thoughts, expression returning to something more neutral.]
You're quite skilled from what I've seen. Though I can't say much for your combat ability. I imagine our one fight you were trying as much as I was.
[With the samurai's hair as good as it was going to get with what they had, he takes a step back. Definitely much better than the ponytail he sported earlier, and just as nice as it had been loose.
He doesn't want to forget any of this.
Turning his gaze away, Scaramouche quietly holds out his hand - a silent offering. A way to anchor himself to the moment, unable to flee should his own feelings grow too unbearable again.]
Oh? What good news could there possibly be tonight?
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Why would I like you making a fool of yourself and dragging me into it?
[The immortal shakes his head, Kazuha didn't go that route and he's thankful for it. Though their meeting had been unplanned and unwanted on his part - the conversation difficult enough that he isn't certain if he's glad it happened - he does find moments like this pleasant, hands gently combing though the other man's hair. Scaramouche moves his focus fully to the task at hand, soft hair between his fingers as he works a neat braid into existence and allows silence to settle between them.
It looks nice he thinks, set to the side as the vagrant normally did his ponytail - far neater than the mess that had become of his head before he began to work on it. Still the Harbinger can do nothing about the hair that curls and sticks out atop his head, how wild all of it wishes to be even as he ties off the end of the braid. There's a charm to it, not that he'll ever admit to it, even as a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.
When Kazuha finally speaks up again he's pulled from his thoughts, expression returning to something more neutral.]
You're quite skilled from what I've seen. Though I can't say much for your combat ability. I imagine our one fight you were trying as much as I was.
[With the samurai's hair as good as it was going to get with what they had, he takes a step back. Definitely much better than the ponytail he sported earlier, and just as nice as it had been loose.
He doesn't want to forget any of this.
Turning his gaze away, Scaramouche quietly holds out his hand - a silent offering. A way to anchor himself to the moment, unable to flee should his own feelings grow too unbearable again.]
Oh? What good news could there possibly be tonight?