| [May. 1st, 2009|02:28 pm] |
Two obvious hints were more than enough. He was exhausted, clearly: fine lines carved themselves a little deeper at the corners of mouth and eyes, and some inner darkness tightened the generous curve of his lips. Natsumi set her half-empty teacup down and shook her head. "I'm fine, thanks. In fact, I should be going. Thank you for your kindness."
The words were mere formalities; she tried to make them sound sincere. He had been kind, offering far more than a stranger at the door deserved, and without the kind of smarmy self-interest she often saw in men who tried to be polite to her. Maybe he was more of a medic than he claimed to be, to offer healing when he needed it himself.
Ibiki would be sorely disappointed to hear his dire predictions had come to nothing. She needed to hunt him up and gloat.
"Rest well, senpai." She rose to her feet, tugging the line of her collar straight, and bowed deeply. "I hope your recovery is swift enough to permit your attendance at my next hanami. I'll try to wait patiently to hear your poetry."
She owed him a debt, too. Somehow, she'd have to figure out a way to repay. |
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