[There's a bitter taste in the immortal's mouth as Kazuha explains. Something entirely expected given the conversation thus far, yet it still stings as though it was no more than an unpleasant thought until spoken.

Scaramouche rubs his thumb against his fingers, trying to find his own words. There's little he can say, though he dislikes that the samurai bothered to tell the man, he understands his reasoning. Someone as kind as Kazuha was would be more inclined to care for the feelings of another. But did that mean that he was thought of as the superior choice? When the mortal offered his heart was it truly all of it?]

By your own words, he wants me dead. What need was there to mention my name at all?

[Had it been a similar situation to this, where he was asked directly who it was and because he cared for the man he felt no reason to avoid answering?

A few maples fall from the immortal's hair as Kazuha presses into it, the weight acting as a comfort though it doesn't entirely settle him, hand still nervously rubbing against itself. He had thought him uninterested, something he may have wanted to claim months ago, but couldn't have been able to do so after the Gala. Where he had been forced to admit to friendship he had also had the truth of his interest pulled from him - admitting he was interested in Kazuha before the two of them had a chance to run into each other.]

Then you're blind as well as stupid.

[The words are spoken softly, had the samurai not acted upon his own desires Scaramouche would never have pursued his own. Even with the uncomfortable thoughts, the painful feeling in his chest from knowing there is another, he can't ignore how it feels to be held. To be kissed by the moron that's captured so much of his thoughts.]

Waiting for the trees to blossom so you could court me, when your words are just as pretty.