He watches Zephyr's fingers disappear into his hair, caught between noticing the effect of the patio lights on his skin, and the clear indecision brought on by his blunt flirtation. Kit shifts his eyes to his cigarette and studies it instead, before taking a drag off of it; this is why he's a smoker, really. Gives him something to do with his hands when his nerves start to get the better of him.

"...I mean--you're good people. That's not the thing."

"Oh yeah?" If his crooked little smile is anything to go by, he's not offended by Zephyr's gaff--maybe endeared by it a little. Still, he can't stop himself from absently scratching at his beard a little; this is usually when the 'it's not you, it's me' spiel arrives, and he finds himself preparing for it. He waves his cigarette-wielding hand in a little aimless gesture. "I mean, it's all right. You don't," another little gesture, "owe me an explanation, or anything. It's fine."