A joyous outburst pierced the air. Fingers curled around the man's large hands. If she could overpower him—and her own serious case of the giggles—cessation of this onslaught would have been executed by kissing his knuckles. Instead, she succumbed. Tender sweeps of her thumb smoothed over his thick wrists; a subtle plea, perhaps? As mellifluous ripples of resplendence simmered, and the quake in her belly ceased, Neela felt the heat in her face pooling under pinched flesh. A soft smile existed even amid a firm grasp. Joy glistened in a deep, sepia stare. Awareness of the silence settling between them struck her bluntly. "Ah—so, did you come by for a snack?" Neela asked, finally, her large eyes squeezed to slivers.

[  .⠀.⠀.  ] ❛ I  don't  have  time  for  games,  Sayuri  ❜ , @naento said.

Of course he would react that way — after all, one cheeky remark after the other rolled off Sayuri's lips with ease at the mere prospect of riling him up. It was just so inspiring — the way he responded, his nerves tensing and coiling so quickly, served as fuel to the cheekiest part of her personality — the version of herself that thrived on mischief, on being a force so disruptive and demanding it couldn’t be ignored, even by those most skilled at blissful indifference. 

Nanami’s curt statement didn’t surprise her — not in the slightest. Instead, a grin, wide and knowing, spread across her lips. It seemed to indicate that she had just been patiently waiting for words so brisk, for an attempt to shut her off and allow him to go about his meticulously planned day. Her retort came with fittingly practiced ease, provocation woven into every word, as if they had been lounging on her tongue, waiting for their moment to shine. ❛ Maybe you should make some time for games, then. It’d do you good. ❜

The insult was there, indirect yet barely hidden — she wasn’t the type to conceal her disapproval, and to her taste, the man before her was far too stuck-up, too rigid, too... predictable. Sure, it was fun to watch him try to contain his annoyance, to take in the subtle twitch of his jaw, the barely perceptible tightening of his lips — but she couldn’t keep herself from wondering if there was some way to lure him out of his shell, to get beneath that controlled exterior.  

Her curiosity usually got the better of her — and it certainly didn’t stop at her inwardly declaring him her newest project, a personal challenge she couldn’t resist. Be it by childishly flippant remarks, pure, unfiltered annoyance, or relentless probing of his personal space and patience, she wasn’t above resorting to unconventional methods to achieve her personal goal: to break through that controlled poker face of usual indifference and draw out an actual laugh from him. Or any kind of lively reaction, really. He was like a stoic wall she had to scale, purely out of curiosity and spite — fueled by her inherent unwillingness to accept defeat, even in the face of something so seemingly casual. She saw his rigid demeanor not as a deterrent, but as an invitation, a dare. Each clipped word, each suppressed sigh, each almost imperceptible eye roll was chalked up as progress in her silent game. 

❛ I think your tie’s too tight — all that pent-up energy has to go somewhere, right? ❜ The words rolled over her tongue with a playful lilt while she leaned in closer, invading his personal space with an audacious disregard for propriety — like she might actually loosen it herself, just to mess with him a little more. ❛ Loosen up, Nanami, ❜ she added with a wink, her voice dropping to a mock-whisper like she was letting him in on a secret. ❛ You might even find out you’re fun. ❜

her gloved hands are wrist deep in a chest cavity, hands cupping the corpse’s heart, pressing and brushing the pads of her thumbs over the organ. she has two more autopsies to conduct— an investigation into a massacre committed by a special grade just yesterday. work she had planned to bury her head in; a distraction from yesterday’s conversation. she would have enough time later in her downtime to mull it over.

just as she’s getting ready to remove the organ, the morgue’s double doors quietly whoosh, movements briefly paused. bronze gaze lifts to regard nanami, flourescent lighting reflected in his blue-tinted glasses. dress shoes tap against hard floor, reaching just short of the autopsy table. a beat passes, then the question rings in the air …

can we talk?

a soft sigh pushes against the mask covering the lower half of her face, eyes falling to her work. as inevitable as the conversation is, it’s not one that she would prefer to have here. the exact place that represents their point of contention. but, shoko has shown no sign that she’d be heading home soon and even less signs that she would retire to his place.

her gaze shifts to her phone on the desk, on silent and facedown. if he had tried to contact her, he’s likely been met by radio silence. it’s a common occurrence, but it’s likely further punctuated by their disagreement.

“what is there to discuss? you’re here, aren’t you? you’ve made up your mind.”

silence ensued, the question figuratively dangling in midair. she watched the faint twitches of his usual neutral expression, shielded by the large hand that encompasses the lower half of his face. her brow quirks in question, curious. however, confidence seeps through the stillness of her features, a smirk curving along the line of her lips.

she allows him to ruminate upon his answer. even if she has an inkling, he's dragging the silence on longer than it needs to be. or, maybe that he's reflecting on years gone by. the mention of their friend, the first one to leave them, it aches still. and, shoko knows it must ache deeper for nanami, having been in the same year and often joined at the hip in the same way she had been with her own fellow classmen.

when his response finally came, shoko's brow arches as if to say ... ah, so that's how you've chosen to play it. unperturbed by his answer, the doctor leans her cheek against her palm, pinky finger tapping at her cheekbone.

Pale skin now appears nearly white in contrast to cherry pink hair and navy blue uniform garments. The young woman's lips are turned up just barely at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah," she insists in a whisper.

At either side of her are two unconscious individuals. Just a moment ago, it appeared as though both had stopped breathing and succumbed to their injuries until Sakura intervened. Their pain became her own as her hands rested atop both of them and Sakura's reversed curse technique went into action.

(prompt || accepting!! :>)

PANKO HADN'T DARED TO BLINK since she left that damned building, not even halfway. She carried a tenser posture than usual, both too curled in on herself and not hidden enough to matter, and her hands carried the slightest tremble to them that betrayed her current… not quite unease. Unease would be too light for the weight sinking into her chest cavity. She wasn't expecting simple out of the mission this time, but fuck, she didn't expect it to go so wrong either. She and the rest of the team that was sent out barely exorcized the curse, and it was left up to her to get herself and her comrades out of the building before the chunk they were working in collapsed, and get them to Shoko so they could be healed. Even if technically, no one died back there, they got too close to the Grim Reaper's harvest path for comfort, and as star sat there, star replayed the events of the mission over and over again.

It was irrational, but nothing about star was 100% rational. Once again, that familiar voice at the back of stars mind repeated itself until it started sounding truthful—it could've gone better if you were braver.

At some point, Nanami had entered, sat down close enough for a conversation to happen, and addressed her, which got her out of her head enough to blink away the unshed tears that had been clouding up her vision until now. Though she'd surely do a better job of keeping the details between herself and the report papers next time, she spilled everything that happened to him, her cowardice, her failures, wiping away fresh tears and hiding her face in her hands once she finished. Shame sank its teeth even deeper into her marrow as she started calculating the harshness of the lecture that was sure to come…

But instead, she was told that she was brave. Braver than what she was currently giving herself credit for. And if she was reading into it right, she should overestimate herself more often.

Right now, even if a bit of pride was making itself known deep down, she was sure that the gentleman was giving her too much credit. Still, she hummed in acknowledgement, mouthed ‘braver’ to herself, and unzipped her bag to fish out a small Sylveon plush before running her thumb over its fabric. She'd rather keep her dignity around Nanami, but certainly, that went out the window as soon as she started talking.

it’s cold enough that she can see both of their breaths puff out into the atmosphere in white plumes.  cold enough that they’ve found an excuse to be pressed together on the train platform while they wait for the next train to arrive. he offered his arm to her earlier as they walked,  and she hasn’t extricated herself from him since. even when they board, shoko leans against him, her cheek brushing against the shoulder of his coat,  and his hand slips its way over her wrist,  fingertips pressing into her palm.  their fingers don’t quite intertwine,  but she doesn’t pull away. 

her stop comes before his, but ever the gentleman, he insists on walking her home. 

she should stop him when she feels his warm fingertips brush along her cheek, but she revels briefly in the heat radiating from his palm as it cups her.  at least, that’s what she tells herself … it’s the warmth she’s after.  he wants her to meet him halfway,  and she nearly does.  

the tip of his nose traces against the bridge of hers,  bumping when @naento tilts his head but not quite meeting her lips.  the fanning warmth of his breath brings color to her cheeks, and she’s so close… so close to letting whatever hesitation that clings to her go and throw caution to the wind.  but,  her hand presses to his chest and shoko decides to break the spell before they get in over their heads.  she can’t give him hope of what she’s still uncertain of,   even if he’s all she wants. 

Pulling a smile from Nanami was damn near impossible and a laugh even rarer. The fact she managed to do both was a treat she wouldn’t soon forget and while she was mortified to share her latest mishap with him, it was worth it. Besides, at this point, it was her fault. Well, sort of. Her latest catastrophe had been caused because of her stature, but that wasn’t something she could control nor could she afford to have her kitchen remodeled to suit her better.

“You’re too kind,” she teased, nudging him with her foot lightly beneath the table. 

“Baking is a dangerous pastime when you’re my height,” she lamented. “And when your cabinet knobs grab your pockets,” which was a constant fight for her. That truly was the cause of the last mishap and she was still finding flour in places around her kitchen; it’d been a full week and no amount of cleaning seemed to get everything!

“Maybe I’m just too clumsy,” she joked, sipping her coffee. “Or I need a lesson from a pro.” The pro in question clearly being Nanami and while she was joking, the thought of cooking with him was a nice one.