There was, in that first moment, where Ignis seemed to be taking in a breath to respond, maybe just a touch of disappointment and maybe even a little bit of confusion, though the clear and evident excitement in her voice seemed to have him sort of take that initial reaction about what was a question he wouldn't have immediately expected, but certainly did make sense, given the season, and shift it, tweak it, just a little, and that inhaled breath was released again with a faint smile, a light laugh.

"I have to admit," he said, "that I don't really feel much about them at all, though I certainly have a deep appreciation for pine offering up a variation in the scents of the season beyond cinnamon and peppermint. Though now, I certainly must beg the question of how you might feel about them?"

He had a hunch, though his intrigue on what exactly her thoughts on the matter were had piqued.