She pats Jimin's arm and tilts her head to catch his eye. “I think it’s time for you to take a rest.”
It wasn’t uncommon to find Jimin awake far past his bed time, though it was much less common to find him in Mukashi-Kara with the shop lights turned on. Not all of them even, just a few to keep the shadows in the corners at bay and to help his already sharp eyes pick out lines and indents and tiny shapes that form his wagashi. It was a habit that he picked up from his grandmother so long ago, taking advantage of her insomnia and his restlessness to practice shapes or make up new ones. Over time it had become something he did when his mind wouldn’t quiet down and the guilt once again ate at him slowly from within.
What he hadn’t expected - ears and tail drooped in exhaustion and unhappiness, firm frown of concentration marring his usually sunny face - was for someone to walk into the shop so late at night. It was obviously not open, it was far too late for that. No one else was even out on the streets. Except, apparently, one woman who wandered into the sweets shop with some intention other than buying sweets. Though if she asked very nicely, Jimin was sure to give her some.
The boy started when the hand came in contact with his arm. He hadn’t even noticed her walk in. “No, I’m- what...what are you doing in here? The shop is closed-” but even as he said it, the words didn’t hold even a hint of the firmness that it perhaps should have.
