[ He lifts the flower and feels something. A pull. Not just to give her the flower, which he ultimately doesn't care about. No, there's more. Yearning? He's missing something that he never had in the fist place.

The warmth of her body against his.

Holy hell, he thinks. He's usually better at keeping his mind clear around her. ]

Hmm. You feel that? They're playing games on us. I hate being messed with.

[ Still, he takes a few more steps towards her, close enough it's becoming difficult to not look at anything but her. The flower is held high enough Melli's head is perfectly covered.

The rest of the answer comes off distracted. It doesn't quite matter right now. ]

Northern country. England. Decadent little twerps, our lovely hosts. Debauchery aplenty.

[ He moves the flower away, his eyes devoid of their usual coldness. There's a hint of worry, but also interest. ]

The perimeter is...enchanted, so to speak. Go far enough and you pass out. We're trapped in never ending revels, little wolf. Best be on guard.