[ jinx's shop has yielded some fine trinkets— it had just been a bit of a shame that they were stashed away ever since makima faced sharon's beastform, and would remain that way until she was further into recovery. it didn't take that long, at least. sleepers tend to heal rather quickly. well, if she doesn't have immediate passive immortality anymore, she'll take this. once she's able to walk around the house by herself, it's during this early(ish) morning that she peeks into one of the boy's bedrooms, steps right in . . . well, brownie thinks it's acceptable to launch himself onto mob's bed before makima can gently sit by the bedside. silly puppy.
makima simply watches for a bit and admires her pup the way an owner would. so cute. growing. hers. reminded of plenty of films with parents that sit close to their children and welcome them to a new day, she decides to try it herself— and she's not disappointed. whether he's already been stirred awake or not, she brushes his messy bed-bangs away from his face and speaks, soft and welcoming like the morning outside in hopes that waking up is a smooth process. even though trench lacked quite a bit of sunlight, at least she could make up for it with her own fabricated warmth: ]
[when mob sleeps things tend to float, which is a major reason he keeps anything breakable out of his room. it does mean small things he does keep around circle the air idly, jittering a little when sweet brownie's jump to the bed makes mob shift and stir.
said items settle and drop as he blinks awake, a brief moment of sleepy confusion before he registers it's makima. of course it is, miss makima always feels close by now, in a way even his bond with robby never quite felt. there's a lot of talk going on that's made him consider the contract more but he's never been able to find fault with this feeling it gives him, that she'll always be there.]
Miss Makima. [a still sleepy murmur, and maybe he'll let himself bask in the comfort of her hand for a moment before pulling himself to sit up, a slow blink.] Good morning.
[he registers she probably has some intent, a tilt of his head when he notices she's holding something out of view. of course brownie needs attention first so he gets pats.]
[ curious, isn’t he? but ridiculously cute. she resists the urge to show the gift already— it stays snug behind her back, and brownie serves as an excellent distraction. once she’s fixed his hair, her hand returns to her lap. ]
I did. [it's been a very long time since his mother woke him like this. usually a morning in their household was people yelling up the stairs or ritsu knocking at his door.
but! more importantly!] How are you feeling, Miss Makima? [he has maybe asked that a lot lately. her injuries made him just a touch more worried, more protective.]
[ it's a simple enough question to answer. she could always drink blood to heal herself, but let's be real: she's not an uncouth barbarian. with no contracts to keep herself healthy and pristine while others randomly receive her injuries, she has to do this the old-fashioned way. makima holds her arm up to allow a sleeve to slide down and reveal some bandages, clean and freshly rolled. she might even be distorting the reality of her healing scars, including what's still on her face and fingers, but the way she presents herself seems alright for her young companions: the way that would worry them the least.
oh, and now seems like a good time to give him what she's hiding: a small box, wrapped with care and even a colored string of blues and purples. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sometime soon after people talking smack :')
makima simply watches for a bit and admires her pup the way an owner would. so cute. growing. hers. reminded of plenty of films with parents that sit close to their children and welcome them to a new day, she decides to try it herself— and she's not disappointed. whether he's already been stirred awake or not, she brushes his messy bed-bangs away from his face and speaks, soft and welcoming like the morning outside in hopes that waking up is a smooth process. even though trench lacked quite a bit of sunlight, at least she could make up for it with her own fabricated warmth: ]
Good morning, Shigeo.
[ she has something behind her back. ]
makima has done nothing wrong 2k23
said items settle and drop as he blinks awake, a brief moment of sleepy confusion before he registers it's makima. of course it is, miss makima always feels close by now, in a way even his bond with robby never quite felt. there's a lot of talk going on that's made him consider the contract more but he's never been able to find fault with this feeling it gives him, that she'll always be there.]
Miss Makima. [a still sleepy murmur, and maybe he'll let himself bask in the comfort of her hand for a moment before pulling himself to sit up, a slow blink.] Good morning.
[he registers she probably has some intent, a tilt of his head when he notices she's holding something out of view. of course brownie needs attention first so he gets pats.]
absolutely nothing wrong, ever, in her life
Did you sleep well?
no subject
but! more importantly!] How are you feeling, Miss Makima? [he has maybe asked that a lot lately. her injuries made him just a touch more worried, more protective.]
no subject
[ it's a simple enough question to answer. she could always drink blood to heal herself, but let's be real: she's not an uncouth barbarian. with no contracts to keep herself healthy and pristine while others randomly receive her injuries, she has to do this the old-fashioned way. makima holds her arm up to allow a sleeve to slide down and reveal some bandages, clean and freshly rolled. she might even be distorting the reality of her healing scars, including what's still on her face and fingers, but the way she presents herself seems alright for her young companions: the way that would worry them the least.
oh, and now seems like a good time to give him what she's hiding: a small box, wrapped with care and even a colored string of blues and purples. ]
I got you something.