❛ i did the dishes though. ❜ (alma for dara)
IT CARRIES OUT INTO THE SILENCE ⸻ though. like the clean up makes things any less scrambled. dara fights between twitching irritation and fond exasperation and winds up fondly irritated. gloved hands pinch hard at the bridge of her own nose, eyes squeezed shut. the other hand slaps to rest in a twist around the kid's hoodie until the fabric is loosely taut. " you ate two and a half dozen pork buns. " she's not tall like yoki is, can't haul alma up like she wants to, so she pivots to the opposite. uses the hand at his nape to shove his head down toward the ground, trying to fold him over himself in some silly show of origami like force. ( the kid has a couple inches on her so the leverage is poor, and it's not like she's actually aiming to bring him down to the ground. ) dara will rattle his head around a bit to drive the point home, like how you'd tough love an overexcited pup you're not actually angry with. " those were for the whole team, you bottomless pit. "
she releases him only when he begins to whine at her, because she's a sucker. but her gaze catches the apron hanging on the wall and she grins ... something scheming. " well. go ahead and get those dishes out of the sink, kid. " a firm smack between his shoulder blades, and a shove toward the basin where the drying rack is settled. dara makes her way to the hanging hooks and begins tying the fabric strip around her waist, around her neck, until the apron lays flat and folded at her hips. ( she takes the second one and balls it up between her palms until it's tight enough to hold, and then throws it across the room at him. ) snorts when it lands across his shoulder and startles him into dropping the metal sheet pan in hand. " put that on to protect your clothes, 'cause you're not leaving the kitchen until you've helped me make more. "
