Sephiroth shrugs out of the coat easily enough when Zechs pushes it over his shoulders, letting to drop with a heavy thud - the leather and metal aren't light. He pays next to no attention to it, however, staying focused on his attentions to Zechs' neck and Zechs' own repaid interest in his chest. Those thumbs dragging over his nipples earn a soft sound, not quite a growl but closer to that than anything else. It doesn't seem to be a noise of complaint.

At Zechs' question, Sephiroth pulls back for a moment to gaze at him. He's clearly lost himself in whatever's affecting him; it seems to take him a moment to pull himself together enough to process Zechs' words and respond to them. "I don't know what lines there are," he says, and for a moment there's a touch of uncertainty in his voice. He really is new to this, however assured he seems and however hungry the food and drink here has made him. "But I should be asking you that as well."