[Even though his eyes are closed, Kamui feels as if his every sense is on overdrive while Fuuma comes closer, while he's beside him. The faint appearance of scales on his body probably give away the -- not quite discomfort, but something perhaps like it that he's feeling. Still he's entirely silent, never warning him off, even biting back the vague murmur stuck in the back of his throat when Fuuma's fingers brush his neck and instinctively draw out his scales under that touch. The chains tightened a little then, but Kamui's eyes stayed closed, barely seeming to feel it. Maybe too used to it by now.]
[All the while, though, his heart is racing somehow. He doesn't know if he can attribute it to nervousness from knowing this man's origins, or wonder at his entirely different approach to Kamui, to his kind. Can't help but wonder where his thoughts are, even as a voice in his head reminds him that even now Fuuma may not be what he pretends.
But what could he even hope to gain?]
[When he speaks again, Kamui's attention instantly cuts away from his own thoughts, listening to Fuuma's musings. His eyes are open halfway now, dark, bitter. They would have, of course they would have, murderous scum as each and every one of them--]
[That last line makes everything stop. His eyes are suddenly very wide, visibly shaken and a little frantic--the sound that he lets out as his lips part isn't words but an unnatural noise, stuck at the back of his throat. Almost a growl, but so disbelieving.]
You...-- [No way. Even having the thought at the back of his mind before, hearing it from Fuuma is like a ton of bricks falling on him. He forgets his shift to human language from earlier and continues in a breathless rumble, in his own tongue almost desperately.] You're serious.