[da na na na na na na na ACTION]evocationsAugust 2 2010, 03:42:19 UTC
[It's nearly midnight when Minato finally makes it home to a dark apartment, a paper bag full of half-stale cinnamon buns - the last remnants of Brew Ha Ha's daily offerings - tucked under one arm.
The apartment is for once silent and peaceful, but Minato can tell by the light out on the patio that one resident is still awake. Slipping off his shoes, he heads across the living room to the open sliding door.]
[The moon was mostly full, but a shadow ran like a sliver across it as it waned. He could make its peculiar egg-shaped out from behind the lines of clouds that rolled serenely across the sky. He kept his eyes on it, and it was only when he heard the familiar sound of the patio door that he turned to smile, greeting his friend.]
Hello, good evening.
I knew you would come.
[He's sitting on one of the benches that they had found on the side of the road next to someone's trash bin. He offered Minato the seat beside him.]
[Was Minato tired? Surely that was a trick question. Leaning against the doorframe, he shrugged one shoulder and glanced out at the moon.]
... You asked me to come, so I came.
[Wordlessly, he thrusts out the paper bag of buns to Ryoji and accepts the proffered seat, climbing over the arm of the bench to settle into the worn groove someone has already made into it. The bench makes a groaning noise of protest under their combined weight, but Minato doesn't seem to be too worried about it.]
I'm fine; I drank a lot of coffee at work. You said you needed to talk?
[He turns to Ryoji face-on, expression subdued to the untrained eye, but honestly brimming with concern.]
[Oh, oh oh! Oh! A present! He takes it with grabby fingers, peeking into the paper bag as if the day-old cinnamon buns were baked with pure gold. He holds them in his lap, debating whether or not it was appropriate to start feasting yet. Hesitating, he meets Minato's eyes fearlessly.]
I think there's some things you should know. Atsumi, she ...
[He chooses his words carefully, grasping for the right way to express what he's feeling. He takes a long breath, and then picks again. Debating on how he should start this, and where he should go. And then he remembers that this is Minato, and that no matter how he fumbles, that things will eventually come naturally. It, oddly, puts him at ease. Just like she does.]
How do I start? I don't even know where I should begin.
Oh! How about ... [His grasp tightens on the bag of cinnamon buns.] Remember the first time that we met? Well, I guess it wouldn't be the first time ... but the second time? I offered you a contract ...
Comments 25
All right, I'll head straight home after work.
Reply
The apartment is for once silent and peaceful, but Minato can tell by the light out on the patio that one resident is still awake. Slipping off his shoes, he heads across the living room to the open sliding door.]
Reply
Hello, good evening.
I knew you would come.
[He's sitting on one of the benches that they had found on the side of the road next to someone's trash bin. He offered Minato the seat beside him.]
You're not tired, are you?
Reply
... You asked me to come, so I came.
[Wordlessly, he thrusts out the paper bag of buns to Ryoji and accepts the proffered seat, climbing over the arm of the bench to settle into the worn groove someone has already made into it. The bench makes a groaning noise of protest under their combined weight, but Minato doesn't seem to be too worried about it.]
I'm fine; I drank a lot of coffee at work. You said you needed to talk?
[He turns to Ryoji face-on, expression subdued to the untrained eye, but honestly brimming with concern.]
Reply
I think there's some things you should know. Atsumi, she ...
[He chooses his words carefully, grasping for the right way to express what he's feeling. He takes a long breath, and then picks again. Debating on how he should start this, and where he should go. And then he remembers that this is Minato, and that no matter how he fumbles, that things will eventually come naturally. It, oddly, puts him at ease. Just like she does.]
How do I start? I don't even know where I should begin.
Oh! How about ... [His grasp tightens on the bag of cinnamon buns.] Remember the first time that we met? Well, I guess it wouldn't be the first time ... but the second time? I offered you a contract ...
Reply
Leave a comment