[Log] Toushirou, Momo
Title: Anger Management
Characters: Momo Hinamori (davyn, Toushirou Hitsugaya (kellenanne)
Timeline: March 6th, 1950
Rating: PG
Summary: Toushirou is evasive. Momo is grumpy. Mushrooms are burning.
It had been - Toushirou did a quick count - three days since the incident in the shooting range. (Three days was tough to count when he'd spent half of that either hungover, drunk, or asleep.) Maybe he should have stopped by sooner; he had promised Momo he would check in with her, but things had to be taken care of first. He had to make sure everything was all right.
And by everything, he meant everything up to and including his job. His arm had taken second place to his job, but Matsumoto had done a damn fine job of keeping him in line over it.
It wasn't entirely his fault it had taken him three days to get to Momo's apartment door and knock. Things had needed taken care of.
And he'd had to get drunk at least once during it all. Matsumoto had helped with that one, too.
Momo had no idea how she was supposed to get all the ingredients on her list into the pot in front of her without messing it up. Eight ingrediants? Who knew that spaghettie sauce was so complicated. She frowned at and sighed, glancing back at the carefully arranged items on her counter.
It was Grannies recipe. One of the few that the she had written down and given to her when she had gone off to college and she still hadn't mastered it. She chewed on her bottom lip and sighed, carefully measuring out the first of many things.
She needed to concentrate. She was irritated with Toushirou, had lost her case that afternoon -- he had stabbed his wife to death! How the jury had missed that she did not know -- and was more than just a little grumpy.
She could cook this. She could. Then she was going to hunt down Toushirou and find out if he had died from blood loss or not.
It took Toushirou a couple moments to actually knock. He did not want to deal with this; Momo had been very upset by it all. That was part of the reason he'd taken so long to speak to her. Dealing with an upset Momo took all the energy he could muster, and he just hadn't been able to come up with that much energy.
So he'd stayed away...
He sighed and finally knocked. He couldn't stay away forever. She'd track him down if he so much as thought of trying it.
Momo paused. She had just about to put the mushrooms in the pan. Why was she always interrupted in making this particular dish when she was about to put the mushrooms in the pan? She stared at it with a sigh and carefully moved it off the heat. The last time she had answered the door and not done this the pan had exploded. She didn't know how or why it had exploded, but it had. The pan was coming off the heat this time.
She shook her head and headed towards the door, eyes narrowing. A glance at the wall confirmed that it was in fact past eight, and opened her door. She would have thought it was Toushirou expect for the fact that she had not seen him in three days. Well since she had shot him. She had tried, had even gone to his apartment twice and his office three times.
No Toushirou.
So the fact that he had finally shown up and was staring at her when she opened the door had her eyes narrowing with displeasure. She glanced at his arm, relieved to see that it was still in one piece and that he did in fact still have his arm. Then she glanced back up at him. She was tired and irritable and just wanted to be left alone so she could attempt to not blow up her kitchen in piece.
So she shut the door again. He was alive. That was good. She just was not in the mood to yell at him for disappearing for three days. Tomorrow was good, he could come back tomorrow.
She flipped the lock back in place. She was going to get her food right this time.
He hadn't quite expected that. He sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward. What was that about? He dug in his pocket for his keys and pulled out the spare one to her apartment. She'd given it to him long ago, for emergency use.
While he wasn't sure if this constituted an emergency, he was certain he wasn't walking away now.
Shutting the door in his face. What was she thinking? Huffing a little, he unlocked the door and slipped inside the apartment.
Momo scowled at her mushrooms. They were finally in the pan. The pan was good, they could cook properly like they were supposed to. Then she would add all the other spice, she stirred them briskly.
She was not mad at Toushirou, oh all right she was very mad at Toushirou. Oh sure she had shot him, but he hadn't let her help him! Which meant he either thought she wasn't good enough to help him or... or... or there were too many or's!
She glowered at her mushrooms. She was mad.
Toushirou closed the door behind him, rolling his eyes. So, she was more interested in cooking her dinner than noticing he came into the apartment. He shook his head and locked the door before stepping further into the apartment.
That might not have been the smartest idea, but... he liked locking doors behind him.
"Momo?"
Momo jumped and whirled, pointing a spoon with a mushroom on it at him, eyes wide.
"Don't do that!" She frowned at him before turning back to her mushrooms, she was cooking! He knew what kind of concentration this took! She scowled at her mushrooms and dumped the lone mushroom back into the pot and swallowed.
He was going to give her a heart attack doing that one of these days. She frowned. "Why are you here?"
Really, she was mad at him. He was not supposed to be here.
He stepped back when she pointed the spoon at him. With his luck - especially with his luck around her - she'd ended up splattering him with burning mushrooms.
"I told you I'd check in." Why else would he be here?
Momo set the spoon down and turned so that she could stare at him. "Three days Toushirou!" She was not going to yell at him, she was going to sound perfectly reasonable and calm. "Checking in is that night," she had to fist her hands to keep from pointing at him.
"You were shot! And you didn't think it was important enough to check in before three days?" Never mind she had been the one to shoot him, she had been worried. Very worried. He knew how to get a hold of her, where to leave her messages, could even call the office and what he done? Nothing.
She had every right in the world to be grumpy!
Yes. Three days. Three days because he'd had things to do. He blinked at her. "There were things to take care of."
He paused. "I was... indisposed that night." Matsumoto, needles, and whiskey had played a rather large part of his night.
She gaped at him. "You got drunk?"
'Indisposed' was such a.... a... oh the only time she ever heard that word was when he got drunk and was trying to avoid explaining it to her or Granny.
'I was indisposed last night Granny' really translated into, 'I was lit high enough to touch the sky'. She stared at him. "You got shot, were bleeding everywhere and you went and got drunk??" That... was definitely yelling.
Well, when she put it that way, it sounded pretty damned bad, didn't it? He pressed his lips together. He couldn't tell her "yes". She'd kill him, and it wasn't entirely true.
Well, it was true, but... he didn't go out to get drunk.
Damn it.
Keeping quiet wasn't going to help his case at all, but what else could he do?
Momo turned around and stared at her pot for a few moments only to realize that her mushrooms were burning. She gaped at them for a moment to before wailing and grabbing the handle and pulling it off her stove and slamming it into the sink.
Her mushrooms. Ruined. Again.
She turned and glared at Toushirou, fingers curled tightly around the spoon she didn't really recall picking up. "This is all you and your stupid drinking habits fault!"
Then she turned and stalked back to her stove so she could turn off the stove. Then she turned back to him. "Drunk!?" Her fingers tightened around her spoon. She was going to kill him.
He got drunk. Then he made her burn her mushrooms! This was not a good day.
"Drinking... habit?" he repeated. She knew better than that. She knew better. He could barely remember the last time he'd had a little more whiskey than he should. Better still, she could probably barely remember it. Habit, indeed. He snorted.
"Whiskey," he snapped. "For the stitches."
"You were lit up like a fruit cake and you know it!" She responded quickly, propping her hand on her hip so that she could stare more effectively at him with wide eyes. "Or you wouldn't have avoided the conversation."
She paused. "You got stitches! And you didn't let me stay and help you?" She gaped at him. Okay, she shot him - that was bad. But he could have -- he should have! -- let her stayed and helped. That.. that was so far below the belt!
She was the only family he had and he didn't get to just make her go away when he was mad at her like that. She was still made about that. She swallowed.
He snorted again. No, he hadn't let her stay and help. She was useless with her fretting and she needed to get out of the picture. No one needed to put them together if anyone found out he'd, eh, cut himself.
"There were reasons."
She thinned her lips and kept staring at him.
"And what," she demanded, "do you consider your," she had to pause in order to keep from yelling, "'reasons' to be exactly?" She was not going to throttle him or try to strangle him with his hair as she had when they were children. Kicking him in the shins was childish. Throwing things at him was also not a good thing. Granny would be very disappointed if she gave him another black eye.
No matter how nice it was to envision the dent in her pot that would occur when it connected with his thick skull.
She was going to murder him and he wasn't entirely sure why. He'd been the one shot, after all. (And he was sticking to that defense.)
"We both had to keep our jobs," he said. He refused to say anything about considering her "help" useless, as anxious as she'd been. He wasn't that stupid.
he snorted and crossed her arms, the spoon twisting her in fingers. "That is an absolutely pathetic argument." Really it was and she had no qualms telling him. She was a prosecutor, she could find a million loop holes in that statement or she wasn't worth her salt or her paycheck. She needed that paycheck.
"Keeping our jobs has nothing to do with you letting me help you with your arm or not checking in after you said you would."
She was starting to feel like a parent lecturing their two year old who was determined to prove that no he had not stuck his fingers in the cookie jar.
"I'm checking in." And he was. Now. (Finally.) So what if he said it a little defensively? He hadn't expected her to be angry with him. Maybe a little annoyed, but not downright angry.
He couldn't even answer the rest of her statement without risking that spoon taking a swing at his head.
So he just didn't answer any of it.
"That," Momo informed him, "is not good enough!"
She was worried! She deserved more than a flippant 'I am checking in now' maybe an apology for worrying her? Making her upset? For being an ass. She pulled up her best annoyed prosecutor expression and frowned - severely - at him.
"I was worried."
How could that not be good enough? She wanted him to check in and he was here. What more did she want? A few more days to stew? Judging by the fact she'd almost hit him with that spoon, a few more days just might get him shot again.
He returned her frown. (She may be able to pull off a prosecutor's frown, but she had nothing on his police captain's frown, that was certain.) She deserved to be worried, maybe. (Or not, but... hell, she shot him. He got lit afterward. She would have, too.)
"It's what you get."
She stared at him. Then she stared at him some more. Then she realized that she was mad, very mad, mad enough that the tears the pooled in her eyes were from rage and not because she was upset. She was mad.
The last time... she had been worried! She didn't bother with trying to control the impulse, she was mad - was being... being...
She threw the spoon at him.
"That," she was yelling, still yelling. Needed to stop yelling, "is not a good answer."
He hadn't expected her to throw the spoon, which was why the spoon hit him in the middle of the forehead. He took a step back, hand going to his forehead, and blinking at the spoon clattering on the floor.
He should have seen that coming. Really. This was Momo, queen of all things illogical. He should have seen the spoon coming. First she shot him, then she threw things at him the very next time she saw him.
"A spoon?" he demanded.
She was not going to twitch. That was a Toushirou thing, it was not a Momo thing. She clenched her fists and scowled.
"Better than a pan yes?" She turned around and grabbed the pan out of the sink. She dumped water on the floor in the process... and on her shirt and pants, but she did not care.
"Because if you want me to throw the pan," she waved it, "I can oblige you!" A Toushirou head dent in it would be quit fitting considering he had ruined her mushrooms.
He stopped rubbing his forehead to gape at her. What the hell was her problem?
"Good God, woman," he snapped, "you already shot me."
Really didn't need a pan to go along with the bullet... and the spoon.
Two things happened at once. The first one was another flash of anger, because he called her woman. She hated that.
Then he reminded her that she had shot him. The pan dropped back into the sink and she just... stared at him. He called her woman. Then he reminded her that she had shot him.
Tears welled up and she pointed at him. Opened her mouth -- then stared at him some more. She dropped her hand and turned on her heel. She answered that and he would never speak to her again. She was not answering that. She was going to just... slam her door behind her and pretend that he was gone.
Because if he knew what was good for him he would leave. Before she found her high heel collection and threw things at him again.
Well... damn...
Toushirou's hand dropped from his forehead as he watched Momo's face just fall before she turned and stalked away from him.
Crying. And angry. And... apparently his fault.
How that was even possible, he didn't know. He sighed and started after her, staying far enough behind she couldn't turn and smack him easily.
There was nothing really as satisfying as slamming a door shut. As a prosecutor she had to calmly close her door, smile at the defense attorney at her door and offer him coffee. She did not have to be that nice to Toushirou and if she was honest she didn't want to be that nice right now.
Bad day. Was not the right day to have this discussion. She kicked off her shoes and stalked over to her bed. She was going to... sleep. Maybe hit her pillow, but mostly just pretend this whole day just never happened.
It hadn't happened. Really. She pulled a pillow over her head. She was just going to ignore it.
And this was the second time he had a door closed in his face, and this one? This one had been slammed. Hard. With satisfaction, if he wasn't mistaken.
He blinked at it for a few moments, trying to figure out what had prompted this reaction. After not coming up with anything, he chalked it up to Momo's regular irrationality and opened the door.
"Done yet?"
She bit her bottom lip and tightened her grip on her pillow. Counted to ten, and sat up, pulling her pillow with her. She glowered.
"You can leave now." She pointed back towards the door. "I do not want to talk to you anymore." She was... getting unreasonably angry with him over this. She would examine that later, when she wasn't so tired.
It wasn't like he was helping things anyway. He had... that... that... tone.
He stared. There was nothing else he could do. He could only stare. He came to check on her and... this happened?
It took him almost a full minute before he could roll his eyes. "You throw a spoon at me because I wait too long to come," he said, "and now you're ordering me out?"
Clearly, it made sense.
Momo stared at him. She was not going to respond to that by pouting, throwing her pillow or growling at him. She crossed her arms, fingers still clutching her pillow and stared right back.
She was not intimidated by that stare she had her own stare - it was the patented 'I am not intimidated by your stare Toushirou' stare. That stare was better than her 'I am the prosecutor and I will put you behind bars for the rest of your life if you don't co-operate' stare.
"Today," she informed him, ignoring the bite in her tone. He had ruined her mushrooms. Logic went out the window when mushrooms were involved. Well... when she was trying to cook anyway. "Has been a bad day," she pointed at him, first uncrossing her arms to do so. "I was worried about you."
She had been very, very, worried about him. Had even attempted actually cooking something from scratch in order to distract herself! Then he ruined her mushrooms... and other important things. But the important thing in this argument was that he should have known to come and tell her before three days.
Granny would be so grumpy with him right now if she was still alive.
She was giving him another stare. Slightly different this time, with a hint of "I'm right and you're dead wrong" peering through at him. A bad day? She had a bad day? Because he showed up? Or because he hadn't?
Hell if he knew. He stared back, chewing on the inside of his lip, and discarded every comment that came to him.
She'd kill him. No hesitation. He never should have taught her how to shoot. (Not that she passed the lesson. Then again... she had shot someone.)
He turned on his heel and headed straight for the kitchen. She'd been cooking dinner. He needed something to do so he wouldn't yell at her. (So she wouldn't kill him.) It worked. Hopefully.
Momo started counting backwards from one hundred. It was a trick Granny had taught her when dealing with Toushirou. He was so... stubborn sometimes, it made her head hurt. She sighed and stared at the door he had exited with a frown.
All right... she had lost her temper. She was not going to go in there and apologize. He had worried her and she had already apologized for the shooting thing.
... okay she should probably apologize for the whole throwing of the spoon. But only if he apologized for worrying her. She nodded and pushed to her feet.
She would go help him burn this round of mushrooms. It could only serve him right. And... make him let her look at his arm and... figure out where he had gone to get treatment. Her eyes narrowed a little.
She was officially on a mission. Really.
Characters: Momo Hinamori (davyn, Toushirou Hitsugaya (kellenanne)
Timeline: March 6th, 1950
Rating: PG
Summary: Toushirou is evasive. Momo is grumpy. Mushrooms are burning.
It had been - Toushirou did a quick count - three days since the incident in the shooting range. (Three days was tough to count when he'd spent half of that either hungover, drunk, or asleep.) Maybe he should have stopped by sooner; he had promised Momo he would check in with her, but things had to be taken care of first. He had to make sure everything was all right.
And by everything, he meant everything up to and including his job. His arm had taken second place to his job, but Matsumoto had done a damn fine job of keeping him in line over it.
It wasn't entirely his fault it had taken him three days to get to Momo's apartment door and knock. Things had needed taken care of.
And he'd had to get drunk at least once during it all. Matsumoto had helped with that one, too.
Momo had no idea how she was supposed to get all the ingredients on her list into the pot in front of her without messing it up. Eight ingrediants? Who knew that spaghettie sauce was so complicated. She frowned at and sighed, glancing back at the carefully arranged items on her counter.
It was Grannies recipe. One of the few that the she had written down and given to her when she had gone off to college and she still hadn't mastered it. She chewed on her bottom lip and sighed, carefully measuring out the first of many things.
She needed to concentrate. She was irritated with Toushirou, had lost her case that afternoon -- he had stabbed his wife to death! How the jury had missed that she did not know -- and was more than just a little grumpy.
She could cook this. She could. Then she was going to hunt down Toushirou and find out if he had died from blood loss or not.
It took Toushirou a couple moments to actually knock. He did not want to deal with this; Momo had been very upset by it all. That was part of the reason he'd taken so long to speak to her. Dealing with an upset Momo took all the energy he could muster, and he just hadn't been able to come up with that much energy.
So he'd stayed away...
He sighed and finally knocked. He couldn't stay away forever. She'd track him down if he so much as thought of trying it.
Momo paused. She had just about to put the mushrooms in the pan. Why was she always interrupted in making this particular dish when she was about to put the mushrooms in the pan? She stared at it with a sigh and carefully moved it off the heat. The last time she had answered the door and not done this the pan had exploded. She didn't know how or why it had exploded, but it had. The pan was coming off the heat this time.
She shook her head and headed towards the door, eyes narrowing. A glance at the wall confirmed that it was in fact past eight, and opened her door. She would have thought it was Toushirou expect for the fact that she had not seen him in three days. Well since she had shot him. She had tried, had even gone to his apartment twice and his office three times.
No Toushirou.
So the fact that he had finally shown up and was staring at her when she opened the door had her eyes narrowing with displeasure. She glanced at his arm, relieved to see that it was still in one piece and that he did in fact still have his arm. Then she glanced back up at him. She was tired and irritable and just wanted to be left alone so she could attempt to not blow up her kitchen in piece.
So she shut the door again. He was alive. That was good. She just was not in the mood to yell at him for disappearing for three days. Tomorrow was good, he could come back tomorrow.
She flipped the lock back in place. She was going to get her food right this time.
He hadn't quite expected that. He sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward. What was that about? He dug in his pocket for his keys and pulled out the spare one to her apartment. She'd given it to him long ago, for emergency use.
While he wasn't sure if this constituted an emergency, he was certain he wasn't walking away now.
Shutting the door in his face. What was she thinking? Huffing a little, he unlocked the door and slipped inside the apartment.
Momo scowled at her mushrooms. They were finally in the pan. The pan was good, they could cook properly like they were supposed to. Then she would add all the other spice, she stirred them briskly.
She was not mad at Toushirou, oh all right she was very mad at Toushirou. Oh sure she had shot him, but he hadn't let her help him! Which meant he either thought she wasn't good enough to help him or... or... or there were too many or's!
She glowered at her mushrooms. She was mad.
Toushirou closed the door behind him, rolling his eyes. So, she was more interested in cooking her dinner than noticing he came into the apartment. He shook his head and locked the door before stepping further into the apartment.
That might not have been the smartest idea, but... he liked locking doors behind him.
"Momo?"
Momo jumped and whirled, pointing a spoon with a mushroom on it at him, eyes wide.
"Don't do that!" She frowned at him before turning back to her mushrooms, she was cooking! He knew what kind of concentration this took! She scowled at her mushrooms and dumped the lone mushroom back into the pot and swallowed.
He was going to give her a heart attack doing that one of these days. She frowned. "Why are you here?"
Really, she was mad at him. He was not supposed to be here.
He stepped back when she pointed the spoon at him. With his luck - especially with his luck around her - she'd ended up splattering him with burning mushrooms.
"I told you I'd check in." Why else would he be here?
Momo set the spoon down and turned so that she could stare at him. "Three days Toushirou!" She was not going to yell at him, she was going to sound perfectly reasonable and calm. "Checking in is that night," she had to fist her hands to keep from pointing at him.
"You were shot! And you didn't think it was important enough to check in before three days?" Never mind she had been the one to shoot him, she had been worried. Very worried. He knew how to get a hold of her, where to leave her messages, could even call the office and what he done? Nothing.
She had every right in the world to be grumpy!
Yes. Three days. Three days because he'd had things to do. He blinked at her. "There were things to take care of."
He paused. "I was... indisposed that night." Matsumoto, needles, and whiskey had played a rather large part of his night.
She gaped at him. "You got drunk?"
'Indisposed' was such a.... a... oh the only time she ever heard that word was when he got drunk and was trying to avoid explaining it to her or Granny.
'I was indisposed last night Granny' really translated into, 'I was lit high enough to touch the sky'. She stared at him. "You got shot, were bleeding everywhere and you went and got drunk??" That... was definitely yelling.
Well, when she put it that way, it sounded pretty damned bad, didn't it? He pressed his lips together. He couldn't tell her "yes". She'd kill him, and it wasn't entirely true.
Well, it was true, but... he didn't go out to get drunk.
Damn it.
Keeping quiet wasn't going to help his case at all, but what else could he do?
Momo turned around and stared at her pot for a few moments only to realize that her mushrooms were burning. She gaped at them for a moment to before wailing and grabbing the handle and pulling it off her stove and slamming it into the sink.
Her mushrooms. Ruined. Again.
She turned and glared at Toushirou, fingers curled tightly around the spoon she didn't really recall picking up. "This is all you and your stupid drinking habits fault!"
Then she turned and stalked back to her stove so she could turn off the stove. Then she turned back to him. "Drunk!?" Her fingers tightened around her spoon. She was going to kill him.
He got drunk. Then he made her burn her mushrooms! This was not a good day.
"Drinking... habit?" he repeated. She knew better than that. She knew better. He could barely remember the last time he'd had a little more whiskey than he should. Better still, she could probably barely remember it. Habit, indeed. He snorted.
"Whiskey," he snapped. "For the stitches."
"You were lit up like a fruit cake and you know it!" She responded quickly, propping her hand on her hip so that she could stare more effectively at him with wide eyes. "Or you wouldn't have avoided the conversation."
She paused. "You got stitches! And you didn't let me stay and help you?" She gaped at him. Okay, she shot him - that was bad. But he could have -- he should have! -- let her stayed and helped. That.. that was so far below the belt!
She was the only family he had and he didn't get to just make her go away when he was mad at her like that. She was still made about that. She swallowed.
He snorted again. No, he hadn't let her stay and help. She was useless with her fretting and she needed to get out of the picture. No one needed to put them together if anyone found out he'd, eh, cut himself.
"There were reasons."
She thinned her lips and kept staring at him.
"And what," she demanded, "do you consider your," she had to pause in order to keep from yelling, "'reasons' to be exactly?" She was not going to throttle him or try to strangle him with his hair as she had when they were children. Kicking him in the shins was childish. Throwing things at him was also not a good thing. Granny would be very disappointed if she gave him another black eye.
No matter how nice it was to envision the dent in her pot that would occur when it connected with his thick skull.
She was going to murder him and he wasn't entirely sure why. He'd been the one shot, after all. (And he was sticking to that defense.)
"We both had to keep our jobs," he said. He refused to say anything about considering her "help" useless, as anxious as she'd been. He wasn't that stupid.
he snorted and crossed her arms, the spoon twisting her in fingers. "That is an absolutely pathetic argument." Really it was and she had no qualms telling him. She was a prosecutor, she could find a million loop holes in that statement or she wasn't worth her salt or her paycheck. She needed that paycheck.
"Keeping our jobs has nothing to do with you letting me help you with your arm or not checking in after you said you would."
She was starting to feel like a parent lecturing their two year old who was determined to prove that no he had not stuck his fingers in the cookie jar.
"I'm checking in." And he was. Now. (Finally.) So what if he said it a little defensively? He hadn't expected her to be angry with him. Maybe a little annoyed, but not downright angry.
He couldn't even answer the rest of her statement without risking that spoon taking a swing at his head.
So he just didn't answer any of it.
"That," Momo informed him, "is not good enough!"
She was worried! She deserved more than a flippant 'I am checking in now' maybe an apology for worrying her? Making her upset? For being an ass. She pulled up her best annoyed prosecutor expression and frowned - severely - at him.
"I was worried."
How could that not be good enough? She wanted him to check in and he was here. What more did she want? A few more days to stew? Judging by the fact she'd almost hit him with that spoon, a few more days just might get him shot again.
He returned her frown. (She may be able to pull off a prosecutor's frown, but she had nothing on his police captain's frown, that was certain.) She deserved to be worried, maybe. (Or not, but... hell, she shot him. He got lit afterward. She would have, too.)
"It's what you get."
She stared at him. Then she stared at him some more. Then she realized that she was mad, very mad, mad enough that the tears the pooled in her eyes were from rage and not because she was upset. She was mad.
The last time... she had been worried! She didn't bother with trying to control the impulse, she was mad - was being... being...
She threw the spoon at him.
"That," she was yelling, still yelling. Needed to stop yelling, "is not a good answer."
He hadn't expected her to throw the spoon, which was why the spoon hit him in the middle of the forehead. He took a step back, hand going to his forehead, and blinking at the spoon clattering on the floor.
He should have seen that coming. Really. This was Momo, queen of all things illogical. He should have seen the spoon coming. First she shot him, then she threw things at him the very next time she saw him.
"A spoon?" he demanded.
She was not going to twitch. That was a Toushirou thing, it was not a Momo thing. She clenched her fists and scowled.
"Better than a pan yes?" She turned around and grabbed the pan out of the sink. She dumped water on the floor in the process... and on her shirt and pants, but she did not care.
"Because if you want me to throw the pan," she waved it, "I can oblige you!" A Toushirou head dent in it would be quit fitting considering he had ruined her mushrooms.
He stopped rubbing his forehead to gape at her. What the hell was her problem?
"Good God, woman," he snapped, "you already shot me."
Really didn't need a pan to go along with the bullet... and the spoon.
Two things happened at once. The first one was another flash of anger, because he called her woman. She hated that.
Then he reminded her that she had shot him. The pan dropped back into the sink and she just... stared at him. He called her woman. Then he reminded her that she had shot him.
Tears welled up and she pointed at him. Opened her mouth -- then stared at him some more. She dropped her hand and turned on her heel. She answered that and he would never speak to her again. She was not answering that. She was going to just... slam her door behind her and pretend that he was gone.
Because if he knew what was good for him he would leave. Before she found her high heel collection and threw things at him again.
Well... damn...
Toushirou's hand dropped from his forehead as he watched Momo's face just fall before she turned and stalked away from him.
Crying. And angry. And... apparently his fault.
How that was even possible, he didn't know. He sighed and started after her, staying far enough behind she couldn't turn and smack him easily.
There was nothing really as satisfying as slamming a door shut. As a prosecutor she had to calmly close her door, smile at the defense attorney at her door and offer him coffee. She did not have to be that nice to Toushirou and if she was honest she didn't want to be that nice right now.
Bad day. Was not the right day to have this discussion. She kicked off her shoes and stalked over to her bed. She was going to... sleep. Maybe hit her pillow, but mostly just pretend this whole day just never happened.
It hadn't happened. Really. She pulled a pillow over her head. She was just going to ignore it.
And this was the second time he had a door closed in his face, and this one? This one had been slammed. Hard. With satisfaction, if he wasn't mistaken.
He blinked at it for a few moments, trying to figure out what had prompted this reaction. After not coming up with anything, he chalked it up to Momo's regular irrationality and opened the door.
"Done yet?"
She bit her bottom lip and tightened her grip on her pillow. Counted to ten, and sat up, pulling her pillow with her. She glowered.
"You can leave now." She pointed back towards the door. "I do not want to talk to you anymore." She was... getting unreasonably angry with him over this. She would examine that later, when she wasn't so tired.
It wasn't like he was helping things anyway. He had... that... that... tone.
He stared. There was nothing else he could do. He could only stare. He came to check on her and... this happened?
It took him almost a full minute before he could roll his eyes. "You throw a spoon at me because I wait too long to come," he said, "and now you're ordering me out?"
Clearly, it made sense.
Momo stared at him. She was not going to respond to that by pouting, throwing her pillow or growling at him. She crossed her arms, fingers still clutching her pillow and stared right back.
She was not intimidated by that stare she had her own stare - it was the patented 'I am not intimidated by your stare Toushirou' stare. That stare was better than her 'I am the prosecutor and I will put you behind bars for the rest of your life if you don't co-operate' stare.
"Today," she informed him, ignoring the bite in her tone. He had ruined her mushrooms. Logic went out the window when mushrooms were involved. Well... when she was trying to cook anyway. "Has been a bad day," she pointed at him, first uncrossing her arms to do so. "I was worried about you."
She had been very, very, worried about him. Had even attempted actually cooking something from scratch in order to distract herself! Then he ruined her mushrooms... and other important things. But the important thing in this argument was that he should have known to come and tell her before three days.
Granny would be so grumpy with him right now if she was still alive.
She was giving him another stare. Slightly different this time, with a hint of "I'm right and you're dead wrong" peering through at him. A bad day? She had a bad day? Because he showed up? Or because he hadn't?
Hell if he knew. He stared back, chewing on the inside of his lip, and discarded every comment that came to him.
She'd kill him. No hesitation. He never should have taught her how to shoot. (Not that she passed the lesson. Then again... she had shot someone.)
He turned on his heel and headed straight for the kitchen. She'd been cooking dinner. He needed something to do so he wouldn't yell at her. (So she wouldn't kill him.) It worked. Hopefully.
Momo started counting backwards from one hundred. It was a trick Granny had taught her when dealing with Toushirou. He was so... stubborn sometimes, it made her head hurt. She sighed and stared at the door he had exited with a frown.
All right... she had lost her temper. She was not going to go in there and apologize. He had worried her and she had already apologized for the shooting thing.
... okay she should probably apologize for the whole throwing of the spoon. But only if he apologized for worrying her. She nodded and pushed to her feet.
She would go help him burn this round of mushrooms. It could only serve him right. And... make him let her look at his arm and... figure out where he had gone to get treatment. Her eyes narrowed a little.
She was officially on a mission. Really.