[ even if his imitation could be better, Riku smirks lightly. it doesn't fail to make him feel particularly brotherly, even if they're not even close to being related. the soup itself isn't very fanciful--he may be able to cook and feed himself and therefore, assert a certain independence that Ienzo hasn't quite been taught, but it doesn't mean he's learned enough to call it a skill. it's just a hot broth with poached chicken and thick wheat noodles--maybe a few leaves of basil float idly by, but it's nothing more and nothing less. the mint tea is warm--if it was cold, the fresh, cold taste that lingers on the tongue after it wouldn't be quite as satisfying.
placing the tray down onto the table carefully, he shifts to look for a chair or a spot on the edge of the bed--
instead he realizes that what's a bed really more looks like a nest... ]
Wondering where that one went.
[ one orange, patterned pillow looks suspiciously familiar to the one found missing on the small couch in the library... where he usually lays to read. ]
no subject
placing the tray down onto the table carefully, he shifts to look for a chair or a spot on the edge of the bed--
instead he realizes that what's a bed really more looks like a nest... ]
Wondering where that one went.
[ one orange, patterned pillow looks suspiciously familiar to the one found missing on the small couch in the library... where he usually lays to read. ]