[There's a small moment where the immortal is given the chance to simply watch as the man catches his breath, appreciate how he looks now that feelings have been laid out. Even in a less than ideal state the effort put in is more than perfect to him, fingers idly playing with the samurai's hair. This wasn't how he expected his day to go, fully prepared to help Kazuha with what he'd asked and then be on his way. Even with his hesitation, his fears, he can't find much fault with how things have currently turned out.

When the samurai decides their lips have been apart for too long Scaramouche easily reciprocates, pressing into each kiss with fervor. Was this how kissing was supposed to be? A constant desire for more, craving to be close with no concern over vulnerabilities. He can't decide if it was better or worse that he'd allowed so few in his life until now.]

That sounds like an excuse, but I'm willing to let it slide this time.

[There's a teasing tone to his voice, amusement written all over his face. Given he's more than aware as to why Kazuha's outfit no longer looks pristine, as his hair struggles to free itself from the bun. It's not something the Harbinger would outright admit to being wholly responsible for, regardless of it they both knew it.

The mortal rolls him over and he allows it without fuss, hand gently moving through his hair until it settles at the back of the man's neck. There's little way he could say that his feelings are not at the very least similar in nature.]

You're smart enough to figure that out on your own, aren't you?