For the second time in his very long life, Felix feels his blood turn to ice water, and his whole stomach drops with such a violent lurch he thinks surely he must be about to spiral into some sort of panic attack.

He's well more put together on the surface--Felix has never had to hide his feelings or his emotions (he never sees the point, emotion is what makes things lovely in this world), but this is an exception. The smile stays in place, probably for a little too long before dissipating. It would be rude not to look the other in the eye, despite every single instinct telling him to run.

He felt it. He's so very casual, the other--Kadin? What an odd name--must surely be something similar. Someone similar. Felix finds that he's forgotten to breathe, something that usually only happens if he's found someone particularily gorgeous--Kadin is, but there are more pressing matters--and he finally drums up actual words.

"Like a field before it's about to storm," He manages, because there's no point in lying. Felix's gaze searches, desperate, confused, and he's barely aware the man who's paintings are in the gallery has shuffled off giving them quizzical looks.

Felix, unable to help himself, starts to laugh.

"It's incredible! You're incredible! Look at you!"