Oh. Oh, isn't that a lovely sight, especially at so close a vantage? Devero can't help but pass a faint, reverent breath as his eyes roam the curve of Koumyou's jaw, trace the sweep of his neck, admire the fall of his hair across his face.

His arms are already halfway around the smaller man and oh, how easy it would be to wrap them the rest of the way. To be close, oh, to be close--

Steady, Devero. He steps back and jams his hands into his pockets, lest they betray him. Koumyou's comment makes him smile, and if it's crooked and a little wistful, well. There's myriad reasons why it could be, right?

"At your service," he says, sketching a sarcastic little bow. "Shall I help you with your hair next, good citizen?"