As they dance, and especially as they fall into a set, consistent pattern, Devero stops watching their feet and starts watching the sutra. With just one strand in play, and with that strand mostly keeping its distance, he's able to... to actually appreciate the patterns it weaves through the air. It's almost starting to feel private in here, like the sutra's becoming a wall to keep the rest of the train out.

(Which isn't too far off from what Koumyou had offered just a few minutes before, really.)

Maybe it's because they're enclosed in their own little basket-weave of paper that he's able to remain easy, smiling at Koumyou. "We can talk magic," he says.