[ rather than a cozy lil' scarf, sylvain sees a mangy pile of furs pulled around dimitri's shoulders. he blinks, and the image doesn't budge. it's arguable if he even able to perceive the depression ponytail. (though, gradually... it comes into focus. weird. how did he not notice that before?) ]

Heh, did he now... Did you have some too?

[ Important Questions. he can't quite hide the amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes at the very idea. ]

Felix mentioned you to me first, actually.

[ some things never change, even in death... though, his expression sobers a little as he smooths dimitri's hair back in place like a mother hen. ]

...I just hope Ingrid isn't losing her wits, wherever she is. Or maybe she's finally breathing easy, now that we're no longer around to give her grief.