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[her hands are clenched white-knuckled, scrunched onto the knees of her jeans, and it's rough and uncomfortable and she's stressed herself into a headache and she needs--

jess.

she could have asked steve, should have asked steve, but he just got here and he doesn't know her, he's not her steve, she can't throw all this at him.

shouldn't be throwing all this at sakamoto, either, but it went from her aching mind (heart) to the phone totally without her leave to do so, and he said okay.

stupid smiling understanding idiot.

the squeal of tires won't make her look up, she knows who it is. (although the sound of retching might be kind of a surprise)]

[ and retch he does, noisily and loudly for all the street to hear and behold. on the plus side, he doesn't bring much up to mess up the driveway with. (having expended all ammunition the night previous, isn't that lucky?)

what a great guy. ]

[what the hell is that noise, is something dying out there did sakamoto run over the cat

oh god the cat

where is chewie

and she rushes for the door, flinging it open urgently, and -- oh. okay.

just. stands there awkwardly, red-cheeked and tired-eyed.

what is supposed to happen now.]

[ what happens now is that Sakamoto stands up

waits a moment, as if expecting a horrendous nausea relapse

before flashing Carol a grin most brilliant from across the car.

it could be dashing were it not for the state of his face.

welp ]

Carol-san! I'm h-- [ hurp ] here!

[a long beat passes where she does not know how to feel about any of this, and she kind of wants to just go back inside and close the door and go to sleep.

but he's heaving his stomach up, and something truly horrendous has happened to his face, and he's still here.

the idiot.]

You're still in trouble.

[it's quiet. carol turns and goes back in, leaving the door open for him to follow.]

[ he looks like he's been simultaneously mugged, mauled, and spit out alive like so much offal, but the smile's still there and it's still bright, tinged with sheepishness as it is. the scarf he's donned to hide the worst of it is out of season, black as his coat, but for once he doesn't seem to pay much mind to the additional warmth it brings.

small blessings.

he also takes it as a good sign that she hasn't called the authorities on him yet. a good step forward. ]

I know.

[ said, as he stumbles his way around the vehicle, up the steps. limps his way through the door and takes the moment to savour the lingering aroma of smoke and mayo stained into the plaster and wood and grains of the house itself. a good home. a friend's home. ]

Water? Milk? Juice? Anything capable of consumption that isn't related to mayonnaise? Aah?

Coffee's on [(coffee's always on, here)] but you can have water if you want it.

[she pads toward the kitchen in her stocking-feet, idly gathering her hair away from her face, but stops just outside the kitchen door. grudgingly, awkwardly, feeling as weird as it's possible to feel, carol leans back against the wall and takes a breath and looks at him, frowning.]

Do you need--?

[gesturing vaguely at her own face. medical attention? to file some kind of lawsuit with someone?]

The hell happened?

[ coffee, caffeine sounded good. something hot, preferably unburnt. he kicks off shoes (not geta, for once), and limps his way into the shitlord household. (trying not to slip-slide all the while; socks were a damnation upon the world.) ]

A lot happened.

[ the deed not much by itself, but he knew it was only a part, a piece of the greater whole. figuring it out? that would take effort. ]

It's fine, though! Aha, my wife took care of it.

[ everything save the ribs, the persisting ache in his throat. he tries to smile reassuringly, though it falls a little short. a little nervous, a little wary, more than a little tired.

what do, in the household of a hero who had him on her blacklist? ]

[she watches him a moment longer, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth. tired -- they both look tired, and carol is so sick of being angry, at the landlord, at their situation, at her own uselessness. at sakamoto.

it makes her feel heavy-limbed and clouded-over and stupid, futile. she's putting it on hold, just tonight, she decides. temporary amnesty.]

C'mon, dinkus.

[she grabs him by a sleeve and directs him in to the kitchen table, busies herself fetching the coffee. the space is a little cleaner than usual, and there's a fluffy ginger cat glaring from on top of the refrigerator.

carol doesn't say anything yet. she's trying to think what to say.]

[ it's a miracle that he makes it to the kitchen still standing, one that he celebrates with a blustering and sweeping smile that eventually settles on the ginger demon perched on high. ]

A new addition to the family? Ahh, what a personable namahage!

[ his voice is full of cheer, of light-hearted merriment as if there wasn't some odd pall still hanging between them, as if nothing was amiss, as if he didn't look like the recipient of a hearty smack-down. ]

A personable what-now?

[that's enough to make her look up, follow his gaze to the cat, who is beginning to erupt into a low, rumbling growl.]

Oh, that's Chewie.

[...]

She's from home.

[and carol turns, clutching two mugs of hot black coffee and pausing. table? table feels weird. couch? couch feels weird too. um.]

Aah, hello Chewie-san! Does she always look constipated, or--

[ he never really gets to finishing that sentence, words choked off by what first starts out as a grunt of surprise but quickly resolves itself into a muffled shout of alarm.

there is a large, ginger cat in his face. ]

Chewie! No!

[table it is then, as the mugs get slammed down and carol rushes to grab a handful of hissing, spitting orange fuzz--

who seems very determined to stay there and keep clawing--

but she tears the cat away and cradles it, and as soon as chewie realises whose arms she's now in, she settles and goes back to just growling.]

I'm sorry, I should've said--

[oh no how bad is it]

[ what's a few extra bloody gouges one his face by now? one hand braced against the fridge for additional support, he laughs, fresh new scratches bleeding gently and tenderly. ]

Aaahahaha, fine, it's fine!

[ he's never going to be fit for marriage at this rate ]

What spirit! Oi, I didn't know demons could be domesticated!

[he looks -- so pathetic, standing there mauled and mangled, and the cat is still issuing its terrifying proximity warning, looking as self-satisfied as can be, and--]

Hghk.

[she has to clap a hand to her mouth to stop the laugh that's threatening to knock down the floodgates. no this is dumb this is embarrassing get it together danvers

GET IT TOGETHER]

Aha, ahahahaha! Salt? Do you have salt? I need to purify myself soon, or I'll end up looking just like her!

[ he laughs a little more, peering over his shoulder at Carol and her cat, though he never goes any closer, doesn't dare provoke the thing in her arms.

he wants to come out of this with at least 30% of his face intact, thank you ]

Mhmm.

[still barely containing herself, she flips the hand over so it's the knuckles, not the palm, keeping the laughter at bay and she can speak.

barely.]

There's a -- first aid, in the--

[sakdjlsjd points vaguely]

In the bathroom--

[her shoulders are definitely not threatening to shake right now]

But is there salt?

[ his brows knit in consternation, a furrow of worry and uncertainty before it clears up again in two seconds flat. he shuffles to the table instead, picking up the unwary saltshaker before turning to the vague direction granted him by his host. ]

[that's it, she's gone.

pfffffffhahahahaha and the cat struggles out of her arms in distress and makes a beeline for the other room, as carol braces herself on the kitchen table and laughs because jesus christ.

it's a little hoarse, a little exhausted, a lot impossible to stop.]

Oh my god -- [between fits--] You're such -- an idiot, I can't--

[ he pokes his head back out from the hall, a scratched grin firmly on his face. ]

You're going to hurt my feelings at this rate! You heart-breaker!

[his reappearance just makes it worse, wheezing and gut-aching, and she gestures furiously at him to go away already oh my god

considering not long ago she felt pretty shockingly close to crying, this isn't the worst thing that could've happened.]

[ laughter wasn't quite what he was expecting when he'd first arrived, but it's a better result than he'd ever expected. a job well done, he thinks, and laughs again before hobbling back out of view.

he tries not to look at himself in the mirror while he's digging out the first aid kit; his poor heart can only take so much terror in one day. ]

[when he's done he'll find carol settled down now, seated at the kitchen table, sipping benignly at her coffee and looking deep in thought.

not bad thought. just thought.

and maybe feeling a little (very, very) awkward and embarrassed about what just occurred but you can't really blame her for that ok.]

[ he emerges from the depths of the house a few minutes later, face freshly festooned with band-aids of the more colourful variety. (if he's going to rock the mauled-face look, he may as well go all the way, right? right???) ]

The cat hasn't tampered with my drink yet, has she? You can never trust a fluffy face like that.

[as soon as carol catches sight of him she SNORTS INTO HER COFFEE and almost starts to choke

cough cough cough hack oh my god

oh my god save it carol

she saves it. but not without getting stupidly flustered about it.]

How many times are you gonna make me do that? Jesus! Siddown and drink your damn coffee or I'll sick her on you.

ic contact

action i guess now

all this action ;]

hueheuehuheueeheeuhehe

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