[ there's a moment where he finds himself trying to search his eyes for something more. sometimes, when he does, the honesty flows. the words leave sephiroth's mouth and wayland gives a small nod, realizing that maybe he's a bit closer than he ought to be, than... strangers ought to be, but he doesn't really seem to mind. ]

Scent's a powerful thing.

[ he glances upwards, to the blossoms steadily falling downwards. he's pretty sure there's no point in trying to re-pick the ones that have begun to gather in his hair again. as he notices this, he... gives a very soft chuckle. it happens—where he nudges him softly with his shoulder. it's a quiet offering. a tap to say you could touch me to if you wanted, that maybe it would be alright. his face feels warm, but he's trying to ignore it, even as his eyes trail over the other's lips for a few moments too long. ]

Sorry 'bout your hard work... [ he sighs a bit, plucking another out of his own hair with a shake of his head ] But I think these petals are real determined to stick around.