[What a peculiar reaction, the slightest shift in the samurai's gaze and faint colour to his face, though it's one that pushes his own thoughts in a particular direction. A notion he'd only given brief consideration seeming far more likely from the small display. Did Kazuha like someone? Was he asked to do his makeup so he could go off courting someone? Certainly this 'very special day' wasn't anything so simple.

His mouth feels bitter as he considers the possibility that the reason his assistance was requested is simply that, almost as though it bothered him. Why be so vague about it if it were the case, it would benefit the immortal to know just what he was going to be fixing him up for. If he would even bother agreeing if he knew the reasoning.

Eyes narrow, Scaramouche's face scrunching up for a moment as he scrutinizes the samurai sitting across from him.]

Perhaps I'll grow it out again. With how long it will take to grow back I'll get a welcome break before I need to dedicate entire mornings to it.

[Wordlessly he stands, wandering off elsewhere in the samurai's home before returning with the makeup he's taken to leaving for when he chooses - or is convinced - to spend the night. It's set gently on the table before Scaramouche is fishing around in his bag for the rest.]

Legs out.