With the flush that starts in the tips of his ears and spreads to the rest of his head (and his body) his 'answer' should be pretty evident, without him having to speak.

(Which is a good thing, as his words catch and stumble in his mouth as he tries to stutter them out - he is so very nervous, now he is a little fearful, even scared?)

"Don't...don't go much to festivals," he stammers. "Hard to watch from the outside, the rest of them. Should be there, alongside. Not that different," he protests. His gaze is away from her face, his focus firm on their hands. "I would, would be a good mate. I am desirable. Worthy of another."