Sakuro walks into the Jonin lounge tiredly. It was for sure one of those longer days where he had mountain of paperwork at the hospital that would rival a Hokage's own pile.
He stopped behind the couch and set down the package next to the snake lady. "Anko-san. Here's your dango." The pinkette grumbled tiredly before hanging his body over the couch, which ironically made him look like a snake.
Anko doesn’t look up right away.
One barefoot is hooked over the arm of the couch, the other planted on the floor, posture loose in that way that only looks lazy. Her eyes flick first- to the package- then to Sakuro draped over the couch like he’s about to shed his skin on the upholstery.
A slow grin spreads across her face.
“Well I’ll be damned,” she says, eyes glinting. “The hospital survived another day and you remembered the offering.”
She snatches the dango with one hand and gives it an approving shake like she’s weighing his life expectancy by the sound.
She quickly reaches out with her free hand and pokes Sakuro square in the forehead, not hard, just enough to make a point.
“But seriously- you've looked better.”
She tears into the dango with zero decorum, chewing as she talks.
“Let me guess. Emergency admissions. Someone ignored aftercare. Someone else thought ‘just one more mission’ was a good idea.” A beat. “And you got stuck stitching everyone together while pretending you don’t need sleep.”
Anko swallows, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and leans closer, voice dropping just enough to sound conspiratorial instead of soft.
“So. What do you need advice on today, Snake-in-Training?” Her grin sharpens—but it’s familiar, not cruel. “Because nobody brings me dango just to be nice.”
Before he responds, Anko is already reaching for a chunk of folders from the stack as she snatches a pen from Sakuro's breast pocket. She begins to flip through the pages, filling in the blanks.
blakekathryn
kaledo-art
origamiaround
germansingergirl
