[ It feels like days since she's been back at the little shithole apartment she's been calling home. Rest is a luxury that few of the Lost Souls can afford since the day the blood rain started. But she needs a change of clothes, and maybe a moment to herself to just — be tired, even if she can't admit that out loud. It's a relief just to put on something fresh. Washing her face in the bathroom sink lets her feel just slightly more human.
When she comes out, the thing that looks like Majima is there. For a split second, something doesn't feel quite right — but then, it's not as if he hasn't been in the apartment before. And they see each other often enough, tangled as their lives are. So the moment passes. She lets it, despite that fleeting feeling — a warning forgotten. It's unlike her, and yet... ]
You could've fucking knocked.
[ A little murmur, as she comes to the kitchen counter to light a cigarette. Picking up her pack, she taps one out for "Majima" first and offers it to him — a habit now. ]
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When she comes out, the thing that looks like Majima is there. For a split second, something doesn't feel quite right — but then, it's not as if he hasn't been in the apartment before. And they see each other often enough, tangled as their lives are. So the moment passes. She lets it, despite that fleeting feeling — a warning forgotten. It's unlike her, and yet... ]
You could've fucking knocked.
[ A little murmur, as she comes to the kitchen counter to light a cigarette. Picking up her pack, she taps one out for "Majima" first and offers it to him — a habit now. ]