"Between drift and float?" Peyote tilted his head, looking down at her for a moment before his eyes made their way up to the sky, the same sky she was watching. It really was a nice day. "Wander?" he offered, eyes still upward. "Perhaps you just wander. Or maybe you just live. S'not many people who can just live, you know, 'specially not in these times."
It made him miss other times, other places, when people just really lived and didn't so much care about this and that, the various overarching concerns that were really just dross on the wind, that nonetheless occupied a great deal of the average mortal psyche. He was sure there were mortals like that, still, but they didn't gather. They didn't commune together, and that made them lonely, and he felt their far off echoes, brought closer and into sharp relief when they drank his tea, ate his buttons.
It was something to think about....but not too hard.
He laughed at the comment about the Valentines card, smirking lightly as he looked down at her, thinking to himself that he wasn't a romantic, just a drug-god. "Maybe I am, darlin'. Maybe you got me pegged. Or maybe we're both just wanderers. Or maybe....in order to wander, you gotta be a romantic. 'Cause ambling, wandering, floating...it's either in your blood or it ain't. Least that's how I've always seen it..."