Marco almost asks Jean if he's been smelling a lot of ballsacks - the wry twist to his lips says it all, really - but he refrains from voicing it. He just calmed Jean down, after all, he doesn't need to set him off again.

Marco does mean a country summer; it's not the most pleasant smell depending on area, but he thinks of lush, green fields with spots of yellow in them, the smell of loam and cut grass and the baking scent of earth.

"You do," Marco confirms, and this time Jean takes his hand. Marco's distinctly aware of him doing so, and his scent flares slightly with something like interest before he tamps it down. He still curls his fingers against Jean's though.

"Well.. we technically did what they wanted us to. We could report back... or pad it a little while."