They're stunning, is the first thing Sizhui thinks. He's instantly drawn in by those brilliantly-colored eyes, unable to look away at first, but when Itto speaks, only then does he decide to tear his gaze away (and it's just to downcast because what the man's saying is rather flustering). Makes his heart beat? Why is he licking his lips like he's going to devour me if he isn't cannibalistic? Hmmm. Something to consider when he's not being beckoned closer.

He shouldn't, he knows he shouldn't, but he's shuffling nearer anyhow, watching intently, ready to make a fight or flight decision, whichever proves necessary in this moment. Although he doesn't kneel, Sizhui does stop within arms reach, head tipped sideways. “Do you now? I'm sorry to inform you, I do have family, people who would miss me terribly if I didn't return home at some point.” But. But. “Would my staying help in any way?” Because he could remain as long as possible if it meant Itto wouldn't be murdering people anymore.

The cultivator hesitates, takes a deep, steeling breath then bridges what little distance he'd left between them, both arms at his sides, hands clenched, his left never letting his sword go despite his obliging Itto's request. “Is this better?” If he gets any closer, he might as well be climbing into Itto's lap at that point.