His gaze follows another pink petal as it falls until it reaches the ground. This city, for all its ugliness, had plenty of flowers growing that if Vanitas closed his eyes, and played pretend for two seconds, he could almost believe he were still in Paris. Vanitas assumed several months had passed, since the cherry blossoms here and les cerisiers fleuris de Paris bloomed at about the same time; a dreadful thought really, considering what had been left behind.
Pushes that thought away deep, deep inside of himself, going back to watch the fragile petals fall, their purpose so ephemeral. His watching gets cut away when he notices a familiar face -- not of one that belonged in this city, but rather one from his own world.
It was only a matter of time until they were to bump into each other yet again. “Noé,” Vanitas said simply, as if it hadn’t been months since he’s seen his supposed shield/lackey/whatever term since they certainly weren’t friends, not surprised since Jeanne’s already made him aware of the other’s appearance in the city, “You’ve been lost this whole time, haven’t you.” It wasn’t a question, when Noé’s attention would be pulled away easily, like a curious child. “You certainly haven’t changed a bit.”
