[ oh... what a good sport. once indulged, he's keen to keep the melodrama coming, his pout quivering as she comforts him, the warmth of her hands embracing his; the marvelous difference between them, his one square palm and wide callused fingers only just barely eclipsed by her two petite but not dainty own. the hands of the mother are the same hands that till the earth. around the time she proposes an alternative, his mouth has relaxed into a straight line. ]
Oooo-kayyyy, [ like a brat who reluctantly accepts an alternative. as Aerith makes to look around for some physical evidence of sustenance, Getou leans against the countertop, intent to use both hands to hoist himself to a seat. he only realizes his mistake when he almost slips, his absent limb going unnoticed even by himself, and recalculates when he uses one hand to bounce himself up. ]
[ now content to watch with high interest and mild wonder — he's seen a thousand grilled cheeses made in his day — he kicks his feet inelegantly as he slouches into the cabinets. ]
So! Aerith. [ amicably, or perhaps sly: ] Tell me a story. It can even be your own, if you want.
no subject
Oooo-kayyyy, [ like a brat who reluctantly accepts an alternative. as Aerith makes to look around for some physical evidence of sustenance, Getou leans against the countertop, intent to use both hands to hoist himself to a seat. he only realizes his mistake when he almost slips, his absent limb going unnoticed even by himself, and recalculates when he uses one hand to bounce himself up. ]
[ now content to watch with high interest and mild wonder — he's seen a thousand grilled cheeses made in his day — he kicks his feet inelegantly as he slouches into the cabinets. ]
So! Aerith. [ amicably, or perhaps sly: ] Tell me a story. It can even be your own, if you want.
[ decidedly agreeable with liars? sus. ]