@daisyscape asked: Paz is a master in the art of sneaking into Leona's room — never for any nefarious reasons, but simply because it's much more fun and highly needed for moments like this. They hardly make a sound as they land on the balcony to his bedroom. Don't mind that it's barely even dawn yet.
Carefully dangling from their tail is a gift bag decked out in Savanaclaw yellows and browns. Inside rests a brand new paint set, a pallet, and an assortment of brushes. Paz sets it on the bed next to Leona as they begin tapping at his arm with the intention of waking him up. It would have been more efficient to go with one of their noisier methods, but since it's his birthday and all, they'll go easy on him.
At the first sign of Leona's eyes opening, with added excitement, they sign, "Happy Birthday !"
leona’s not unused to waking up to people in his room. for better or for worse, it’s a tradeoff for the freedom that night raven college provides. usually it’s ruggie picking up after him or waking him up in the morning, but he’s woken up to jack’s disappointment a time or two, and this is far from the first time paz has been the one in here staring at him all wide - eyed.
he’s also not unused to being woken up, but that’s a task that’s not easy for the one doing it. naps he’ll stir from without a problem, but sleep is another issue entirely. so at first he doesn’t react to paz tapping his arm more than a simple shifting in his sleep and a little irritated sound of sleepy acknowledgement — but finally he opens his eyes, dark hair mostly covering them as they open to stare at her. he smiles a little, then shuts his eyes again before giving a big yawn. “ thanks, ” he says, signing it for good measure.
leona yawns again, stretching his arms as he sits up. “ can’t believe you beat ruggie as a wakeup call. ” he doesn’t want to know what time it is, either. but he can take a hint, and he reaches for the bag to open it. something about the painting supplies makes him pause, and the edge of a sarcastic comment settles on his tongue — but it doesn’t make it out. instead he reaches a hand into the bag to lift out one of the brushes. nice quality, but not exorbitant. ( some part of his mind drifts back to being younger, when the childlike wonder in him hadn’t yet died. to studying and studies, to learning about and replicating the world around him. ) his gaze moves from the brush to paz, and after a moment a wry hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “ got any ideas, kid?? ”
