He's just figured out how deep the word can really go.
(Maybe you should let her know in so many words one day. Even if actions...)
"Hah... I sleep enough. More than I did at home." And that's the sad part, isn't it? Her voice begins to waver a bit on the last word, too, because his hand is warm against her forehead and when he lets it linger there, that says it's more than a perfunctory gesture. There's honest concern behind it. Of course there is; it's Kanda, but still...
You know... the only real physical contact she's had with her Kanda since arriving was tackling him to the floor in a stairwell. It was to keep him from doing something stupid. He did it anyway, so she'd screamed at him. ...She hasn't touched him since.
Funny, right? The touchy girl who, back home, didn't seem to go more than an hour without resting a hand on someone's forearm or holding their fingers tight in a white-knuckle grip... has been living off a few scarce touches (and the occasional grief-ridden hug) stretched out over months. Like a plant denied the amount of sunlight it would like, she's just kept twisting and bending backward to try and make the best of it, but now that there's a hand on her skin for reasons besides violence or overwhelmingly pervasive angst, she's a little...
Well.
Bolstered by the knowledge that Kanda touched first, her hand doesn't even shake when she moves it from his wrist, reaches out, and runs a finger through his side bang. "Your hair got longer."
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He's just figured out how deep the word can really go.
(Maybe you should let her know in so many words one day. Even if actions...)
"Hah... I sleep enough. More than I did at home." And that's the sad part, isn't it? Her voice begins to waver a bit on the last word, too, because his hand is warm against her forehead and when he lets it linger there, that says it's more than a perfunctory gesture. There's honest concern behind it. Of course there is; it's Kanda, but still...
You know... the only real physical contact she's had with her Kanda since arriving was tackling him to the floor in a stairwell. It was to keep him from doing something stupid. He did it anyway, so she'd screamed at him. ...She hasn't touched him since.
Funny, right? The touchy girl who, back home, didn't seem to go more than an hour without resting a hand on someone's forearm or holding their fingers tight in a white-knuckle grip... has been living off a few scarce touches (and the occasional grief-ridden hug) stretched out over months. Like a plant denied the amount of sunlight it would like, she's just kept twisting and bending backward to try and make the best of it, but now that there's a hand on her skin for reasons besides violence or
overwhelmingly pervasiveangst, she's a little...Well.
Bolstered by the knowledge that Kanda touched first, her hand doesn't even shake when she moves it from his wrist, reaches out, and runs a finger through his side bang. "Your hair got longer."
And lighter.