[Through time spent with the immortal, Kazuha's learned that Scaramouche is rarely direct with his speech. This should annoy him, as the samurai preferred ways of conversing that left little to interpretation, but it's just one of the things that endears Scaramouche to him now. He no longer finds it so troublesome. The question still makes him pause, his expression looking thoughtful.

Of course he wants him. He's wanted him for some time now, tormented by his feelings of desire and longing. He understands what poets and writers of older were speaking of when they wrote of wanting.

He closes his eyes briefly, just feeling the scrape of Scaramouche's fingers light on is neck. It feels good, his former anxiety almost all gone in favor of basking in the feeling of being wanted back, even if the other man hasn't said it. His actions say enough.]

The luckiest man in Nippon. [He can't help the little tease as he opens his eyes.] But hopefully, your boyfriend.

[It's a blunt way of putting it. Kazuha didn't want to leave anything unclear about what he wanted from Scaramouche. More than friends.

It's whim he decides to emphasize his affection, taking one of the doll's hands and kissing the knuckles, before he presses it into his loosened kimono against the warm beat of his heart. The thing that the samurai said had been stolen-- accurate in a way, since Kazuha had never meant to give it to someone else.]

You aren't naked, Scaramouche. You can leave any time you please. I'm not stopping you.