He could almost swear that she would have taken to the dandelion even without his elucidation. Fortune has struck again, if so, and he almost wonders whether his run of luck is reaching an end. Everything about this encounter has passed exceptionally well; the bestowal of charm, the quirks that create increased interest, and even this play at courtship. While Grantaire welcomes women and men who are entirely unconcerned with such preliminaries, this is (for the time being, at least) an agreeable change.

In this breed of engagement, the slightest gestures are magnified, and each sound seems strung out into song... If only one is open to its reception. And even as Grantaire thinks his way through the experience, he feels himself immersed in the beauty of it (ingrained or perceived, does it matter?), catches the charm of the scene, of her every feature, and writes it all within.

He allows his hand to linger after registering her touch, pausing mid-stride and fixing her with a warm smile. "Then may I rejoice in my existence, that I can make an Irma Boissy smile."

And why not? A small gesture, another brief brush... Reaching forward - gently, lightly - he touches her cheek. Then retreats, hand returning to his side, simply taking her in, holding to the sensation of that touch, watching its effect on her.