| [Jan. 23rd, 2009|01:35 am] |
When Genma got back to Tsume's apartment, he found her leaning against her kitchen sink, laughing so hard she was sloshing the water in her glass up the sides and onto her hand. Kuromaru was sitting splay-legged with a disordered pile of playing cards between his thighs, prodding at his injured face with both hands, and evidently trying to watch himself do so by lolling his eye up towards his forehead. If he'd had two eyes, he'd have been cross-eyed.
Genma came all the way into the room this time, set his med kit down on the kitchen counter, and gave both Inuzuka an amused snort. "Am I gonna have to get one of those big cone-shaped collar things for you, to keep you from fucking with your wounds while they heal?" he asked.
He looked around the sparsely furnished apartment: there was an unmade bed with a rumpled blue duvet. A blue-ticked pillow in a white case was crushed between mattress and wall, and another just like it flopped on the floor next to Kuromaru and his stash of cards. A cluster of odd-looking, brightly-painted frames decorated the wall by the window; two held the sort of generic photographs framers used to sell their wares, two held childish drawings in bright crayon, and one showed a pair of grinning Inuzuka children. Tsume's children, no doubt. Other than that the room was nearly empty. There was a chair with a few stray items on it, an open closet with more clothing on its floor than its hangers, and a pile of ANBU armor and weaponry in the corner.
"You want to sit on the bed while I fix you up?" |
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