To her credit, she was really trying to find some middle ground between his nature, and hers. She was a nurturing individual, and she acknowledged this. Not doing her utmost to care for someone who mattered to her would be utterly against her nature. Takiko blinked as she turned off the stove, and ladled the meat and vegetables onto two plates--what was she to do with him?
Within ten minutes she'd gotten the food on the table, along with two cups of tea, and chopsticks for each of them. She assumed Hotohori was resting himself, as all was quiet in the direction of his room.
Once her task was done, she had to restrain herself from wringing her hands in her worry. He had exactly what she was getting over. Exactly. Just worse. Losing him--especially to something other than a battle gone awry was not an option for her. But..
He was stubborn. This she considered as she scowled at her plate, before a carefully neutral expression settled upon her features like a mask.
Okita finally emerged from the bathroom, trying to balance his soaking wet hair in a pile with the big towel atop his head. He could manage a few steps before it started to collapse and he had to catch it - no, this simply wasn't going to work at all....
He sat down quickly at the table, catching his hair-and-towel tower with one hand and rebalancing it, and sat very very still. And beamed at the young woman sitting across the table. Something was worrying her; the very, very calm look was enough to give that away.
"Thank you!" he said, smile still firmly affixed. "It smells delicious. How did you make it? Do you think you could teach me?"
The girl blinked, and maintained her neutral expression while she tamped down her confusion. How else did one make food? They cooked it! Takiko eyed him, and then shook her head with a tiny smirk upon her face. "Silly. I cooked it! I found a recipe and followed it! And of course I can."
She handed him a clean pair of chopsticks, resuming her façade of calm. It was time to eat, and she'd make sure he ate as much of the hearty meal as he could. She picked up a slice of beef with her wooden chopsticks deftly, and began to eat.
It was good, she found, and perfect for the colder weather.
"Well, yes, but I was wondering about the recipe!" Okita laughed, briefly enough that it didn't bother his lungs, and scooped a generous helping of noodles and tofu into his bowl before he topped it with a few pieces of beef. It was good; and the warmth at last ended the faint shivers left from his cold bath.
Comments 11
Within ten minutes she'd gotten the food on the table, along with two cups of tea, and chopsticks for each of them. She assumed Hotohori was resting himself, as all was quiet in the direction of his room.
Once her task was done, she had to restrain herself from wringing her hands in her worry. He had exactly what she was getting over. Exactly. Just worse. Losing him--especially to something other than a battle gone awry was not an option for her. But..
He was stubborn. This she considered as she scowled at her plate, before a carefully neutral expression settled upon her features like a mask.
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He sat down quickly at the table, catching his hair-and-towel tower with one hand and rebalancing it, and sat very very still. And beamed at the young woman sitting across the table. Something was worrying her; the very, very calm look was enough to give that away.
"Thank you!" he said, smile still firmly affixed. "It smells delicious. How did you make it? Do you think you could teach me?"
Reply
She handed him a clean pair of chopsticks, resuming her façade of calm. It was time to eat, and she'd make sure he ate as much of the hearty meal as he could. She picked up a slice of beef with her wooden chopsticks deftly, and began to eat.
It was good, she found, and perfect for the colder weather.
Reply
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