[In the end, if his appearance was enjoyed still by Scaramouche, that was really all that mattered. The immortal wasn't wrong that the preparation was unlike him, how he typically cared very little about what his appearance was like as long as it was practical enough for bladework. He's fairly certain the judgement from the other was simply out of jealousy at another imagined paramour.
How silly it was for Scaramouche to think there was possibly someone else. Only his feelings for Diluc come close, but he'd made his choice clear to the nobleman just a few short weeks ago.
He stares down him quietly for just a little longer, drinking in the sight of the other man beneath him. Kazuha had spent weeks thinking about this, but his thoughts had made so many plans in case he was rejected. In the face of returned affection, he finds himself a little lost. Aimless.
It's kind of nice.]
Maybe I want to hear you say you're mine.
[His. Kazuha has never been a possessive, jealous type. His nature as a wanderer was never conductive to to it, when staying in one spot is never in his plans. Months ago, he'd jokingly teased Tartaglia that he doesn't keep 'pets' as a reference to his tendency of non-attachment, that his lifestyle isn't conductive to romance.
The mortal brushes his fingers against Scaramouche's cheek, then laughs lightly as a tiny bit of dirt smudges against his skin. The warmth of his laugh morphs into an even more joyful smile, and he leans his head down, kissing against the opposite cheek.
It's brief, and when he pulls back the expression on his face is much more teasingly flirty.]
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How silly it was for Scaramouche to think there was possibly someone else. Only his feelings for Diluc come close, but he'd made his choice clear to the nobleman just a few short weeks ago.
He stares down him quietly for just a little longer, drinking in the sight of the other man beneath him. Kazuha had spent weeks thinking about this, but his thoughts had made so many plans in case he was rejected. In the face of returned affection, he finds himself a little lost. Aimless.
It's kind of nice.]
Maybe I want to hear you say you're mine.
[His. Kazuha has never been a possessive, jealous type. His nature as a wanderer was never conductive to to it, when staying in one spot is never in his plans. Months ago, he'd jokingly teased Tartaglia that he doesn't keep 'pets' as a reference to his tendency of non-attachment, that his lifestyle isn't conductive to romance.
The mortal brushes his fingers against Scaramouche's cheek, then laughs lightly as a tiny bit of dirt smudges against his skin. The warmth of his laugh morphs into an even more joyful smile, and he leans his head down, kissing against the opposite cheek.
It's brief, and when he pulls back the expression on his face is much more teasingly flirty.]
Hmm, so, you doing anything later?