#5aizo

     Saizo calls her fascinating and in the same breath sets poisonous words against her nerves, just to see what would happen. He’s caustic, actively works to wear her patience thin for entertainment, or satisfaction, she can’t really tell. She’d come to blows with him if he ever stayed long enough, and he’s far too sharp to wander close while she’s armed to the teeth and burning with a will to fight back in her belly.

     No, he chooses his battles. Only while her hands are occupied and she’s in the middle of work, a perfect crossroads between the serenity she’s cultivated while alone and safe enough for him to tread.

     It takes time, but he sticks around more often after appearing without a sound-- she loathes it, especially when she makes certain to keep an ear open. Charlotte cannot tell why he’s so fascinated in simply toying with her, or what the point of sitting in silence is to watch her clumsily mend shirts or fold them into smooth lines.

     There is no reason, and so she fills the silence between them. No need to put on airs, and so she speaks normally. Complains to him about inane things, testing his patience, watching him from the corners of her eyes.

     He does not respond, and so the tide of conversation turns to him, as she asks questions, pries the same way he seems to do to her. It works; she’s smirking behind a hand until he moves, and she simply believes him to spent, ready to leave and let her peace return.

     He’s level to her and there are lips on her cheek before she can properly react. Saizo’s words are cheeky, and instinctively she moves to grab his wrist, brows furrowed and the back of her neck flushing pink and anger, poised at the tip of her tongue--

     --He’s gone. Only a challenge left hanging in the air in his wake.