#kmuguruma

Kensei grabbed a smaller towel and went about running it through his hair roughly. He wasn't really doing anything out of his normal routine and it certainly wasn't to grab Rose's attention. But when Rose remarked on his lack of not drying up well he looked back at the trail of wetness he'd left behind him and felt a little sheepish. Something for him to handle but first, he turned to his spouse and with a smile asked, "Oh, so do you want to help?"

               A snort of amusement leaves him as he reads the text on his phone. Of course he had been genuinely concerned, a little, but good gods this man needed a better world view. Either way, it was entertaining to him so Raven was more than happy to refute a cynic's thoughts.

Text: Talk about a cynical bastard <3 How could I be broke when I make more money than you?

Text: But seriously, you've been demanding so much I ACTUALLY got worried when you vanished. Surprisingly enough, I've grown attached to your frown and whismical eye narrows and wanted to see if you were at least still alive.

@kmuguruma

Muguruma-san be like...

“Oh delicious vegetable, dainty texture. Why in the word does it taste so great?” His tongue, his precious tongue was enjoying its taste, its texture, oh, oh.

"A simple hello is for pansies." The captain retorts soon folding his muscle ripped arms as he stared at the shopkeeper. "Is what I heard true. Is your better half expecting? If that's true then you deserve congratulations for proving me wrong. I actually never thought you would be able to manage 'that'." A smirk curls the side of his lips, softening that stern expression some.

“My, how news does travel. As a matter of fact, Muguruma-san, I think it would be accurate to say we are both expecting. And that we both share your astonishment.”

“Super long fucking day. But how are you?” Can’t help but smile a little though at her cheerful greeting.

“Both! Cooking is my thing. I don’t want to share it.” He frowns, his mind already going to whatever could go wrong actually going wrong. The way it often seemed to work whenever he analysed things. “How about he goes and cooks in his own place and brings whatever he made for me to sample instead? That’s reasonable.”

“...” He doesn’t want to sound harsh, but... “Other people cook, Kensei...” He cannot really intend to ‘claim’ it. “That isn’t to say that you have to cook together though, of course. But I think it might be good. Chefs always have teams. He could be your sous-chef. You are organised, so is he. If you give clear instructions it won’t become a mess, I’m sure. It would be a great bonding experience indeed.” 

                It’d been a long time since he’d gotten himself hurt. Not since the time he ended up underwater for months before his last contract had ran up. Even though he knew he wouldn’t die, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell or that he was any less disoriented by the ordeal. His horns itched, his wings ached, and his frame was battered and bruised with very few small scrapes and lacerations to worry about. In all reality he’d call it a win, he came out on top with little injury beyond the blow to his horn that made every part of his cranium throb. Even seeing straight was a bit difficult. He’d wanted to go home, wanted to lie on the cool floor and just let it all heal up on his own. What happened was the opposite though. It wasn’t his home, because he’d been thinking about an earlier conversation when he allowed his flames to whisk him away. It was Kensei’s.