"It's not," Harrowheart agrees as he finds himself settling into his seat. It's not so much the view of the fairegrounds he's looking at, though. Now and then he glances across the carnival, of course, because it would be too obvious if he didn't, but just as often he spends his time watching the woman seated next to him. He tries to be casual as possible when he rests one arm on the back of her seat, but his slight smile gives his intentions away.

"But I think my view's a little better than everyone else's."

He sits in silence for a while after that, now more determined to watch the sights as their cart ascends. There's something thrilling about being in this seat and he's sure it's not just the height of the ride.

"Earlier..." he finally says, his voice quiet and uncertain as he begins. "When you put the locket on? I saw you go to the mirror. You touched your face. My face? My lips. And then you stopped, like you weren't allowed. But..." He presses his palms together to keep focused and forces himself to look at her with a hint of a hopeful smile despite his uncharacteristically red cheeks.

"If you wanna touch my lips, you can. If you wanna hold my hand, you should. If you think you'd like to try somethin', then try it. There's nothin' wrong with bein' curious," he says. "And there's no one here who's gonna tell you otherwise."