[It was half-wager and half-observation, his second pass at the butterflies of yore; he'd only caught the tail end of that long-ago miasma-muted reaction but it was enough, this new one more than makes up for it, and there's something to be said for reckless disregard for metaphysical connections. He's a bit of an expert in it, after all, both in the good and the bad senses.

But for the moment he just drinks it in the way he has everything, with a trace of hushed delight in the midst of the pause, vaguely wondering in the midst of currents of sake and slow-flowing tension between them how much more he can push--]