It took real effort to keep her hands folded politely in her lap instead of reaching out to rescue the papers. She'd been careful not to look at them, but apparently paranoia trumped tidiness. Judging by the state of Genma's apartment, a lot of things trumped tidiness. She tried not to look at them, either.

Genma eased himself down on a cushion at her right hand, cross-legged and informal. Natsumi shifted her weight, slipping stealthily out of seiza into a more comfortable position. Or not quite so stealthily; Genma raised an eyebrow, and the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement. Natsumi sighed.

"You've pegged me as awkward and overeager already. How can I make it worse? I could compose you some very bad poetry, but it would probably ruin your enjoyment altogether. That's a very lovely teapot, by the way."

The whole setting was beautiful, really. No dish matched another; one cup was delicate blue porcelain swirled with a copper glaze, while the other was sturdier, painted with a wavy pattern of plum blossoms. The square plate that held the little pink sweets was soft, dappled green, with tiny two white rabbits under a crescent moon. Each piece had been individually chosen with an eye for beauty. As long as she focused on that, and not the way the styles clashed, she could enjoy the arrangement without gritting her teeth.

There were other things to focus on, of course. Whiskey-brown eyes, lightening to honey in the glow of the lamp; battered, scar-whitened hands, still graceful as they lifted the teapot to pour. She decided to stick with his eyes. "I hope your recovery has been smooth, senpai. I've had only a few experiences with poison, but none of them were pleasant."