Devero's about as red as he can get, so at least his cheeks don't give away his sudden discomfiture. He catches Koumyou's papping hands and brings them down to hold between his own. "Dancing with you that first time, right after I'd boarded the train...." he says softly, his eyes fixed on their hands instead of Koumyou's face, then trails off. Not because he doesn't know what he wants to say, but because he finds his throat choked by something other than capsaicin now.

"It changed my life. Maybe saved it," he continues finally. "I don't know who I would be right now if you hadn't-- if we hadn't--" Damn it. He swallows, takes a deep breath, and manages to continue: "I know he'd be a lot more miserable, though, the Devero who never danced with you."