Jean is a little surprised when Marco rests his head against his shoulder, but he goes along with it. He's learned to trust Marco's instincts on a lot of things; why should this be any different? He hears Marco breathing through his mouth and makes a face--he sounds like a little kid with a cold when he does that--but manages to keep from making a snarky comment. He'll let Marco concentrate, for now.

After a few moments, Jean starts to smell Marco's scent. His has always been a weaker than a dynamic's scent, but Jean still knows it. How could he not, with the amount of time they spend together? Marco smells like clean laundry on the line after a day in the sun, and fires in the hearth. Fires lit with good, expensive hardwood, not pine or something cheap. Cherrywood, maybe, that hint of sweetest that comes along with the smoke.

The clean linen scent gets stronger, and Jean lets his head fall to the side, resting it against Marco's. He can't really judge his own scent, but he's going to trust that the clean linen one can drown it out. If anyone can figure this out, it's Marco.