There's a table in the kitchen, with chairs; Hakkai'd moved it in from the larger dining room, which feels too formal for meals when there are only three people in the temple and only two of them eat. He crosses to the sink, which is piled high with suds in which the edges of a few pots are visible, and goes back to scrubbing.
Asshole follows them, silent as a ghost, and waits just inside the kitchen doorway.
To the pots, Hakkai continues absently, "So it could be any type of feeling, but if -- oh, you saw a spider on the wall -- you would have to dislike spiders quite a lot for me to know about it."
Or, he supposes, so he thinks; he barely feels anything from Chikusa, and with Ayumu, the occasional flare of suppressed anger and the occasional nightmare are most of it. It could be that they're both just particularly calm people, and Asshole, of course, has no choice but calm. In his way.
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There's a table in the kitchen, with chairs; Hakkai'd moved it in from the larger dining room, which feels too formal for meals when there are only three people in the temple and only two of them eat. He crosses to the sink, which is piled high with suds in which the edges of a few pots are visible, and goes back to scrubbing.
Asshole follows them, silent as a ghost, and waits just inside the kitchen doorway.
To the pots, Hakkai continues absently, "So it could be any type of feeling, but if -- oh, you saw a spider on the wall -- you would have to dislike spiders quite a lot for me to know about it."
Or, he supposes, so he thinks; he barely feels anything from Chikusa, and with Ayumu, the occasional flare of suppressed anger and the occasional nightmare are most of it. It could be that they're both just particularly calm people, and Asshole, of course, has no choice but calm. In his way.