[aim log][kin tsuchi & sarutobi asuma][windows and eggs]
The single blessing Kin could think of, regarding the virtually uncloseable window in her room, was the fact that the weather was at least starting to warm up. Had she been stuck in that particular room in the middle of winter, her patience might have snapped earlier. WD-40 had been tried more than once, and hadn't improved the situation one bit, so she had resorted to wearing warmer wear when in her room.
Still, it was annoying, when the temperature in the rest of the building resembled a humid equatorial jungle, whilst her room was doing its level best to turn into the arctic. Well, perhaps the arctic was an exaggeration, but it was still pretty cold, especially at night when warmth was preferred and an air mattress on uncarpeted floors simply did little to conserve what heat she had. Her current attempts at window repair had once again proved fruitless, and thus she gave up the task in disgust, heading to the kitchen to see if they had perhaps something to drink or eat.
And after another day of work - which really, wasn't so bad, because he could move at his own pace and it wasn't very busy - Asuma arrived back at home and shouldered the door open. It stuck in the jam, even still after messing with the hinges a little, but at least it wasn't as bad as it was before. Though it would be even better if the door was located three stories lower. Well, no pain, no gain, as they said. All the exercise should be doing him good... even if it hurt like a bitch.
He tucked his keys back in his pocket, limped inside and pushed the door back closed behind him. Generally the apartment was empty when he got back from work - seven in the evening wasn’t late, but girls had stuff to do, apparently - but for a change Kin was there, poking around in the kitchen. First time he’d seen her in a few days.
"Hey," he said in greeting, mostly just to be polite. They hadn’t spoken enough since she'd moved in to be called friends (he hardly spoke to Ino, either), but it paid to be on good terms with your room mates.
"Evening," the reply was muffled by the refridgerator, dark head shoved in as she pulled out what remained of the orange juice and a carton of eggs. Turning around and shutting the door with her foot, she nodded at him, setting her bounty on the countertop. She'd barely seen him around since the day she'd moved in. Of course, she hardly ever saw Ino either, but whatever, she wasn't their keeper and nor were they hers.
Seeing him hobble in did remind her of her current irritant, though, and she might as well mention it now. Who knows when they'd next bump into each other? "You know the window in my bedroom that doesn't close? The WD-40 isn't working, and I've got no clue how to make it shut properly. It gets pretty cold at night, and it'd be nice if I could shut it some time."
Asuma paused at her words, shifting his weight to his good leg and unzipping his jacket. Hmm… he had said he’d take a crack at her window earlier. And now was as good a time as any, even if he hadn’t had a chance to sit down yet. Hell, did it really matter? He’d just fix the window - or try to, wouldn’t make it worse he figured - and crash back to sleep like he had been the last few days.
“I can take a look at it,” he replied. “No guarantees I can fix it, though.” If WD-40 wasn’t working it had probably come off the runners… or maybe the spring was broken or catching, depending on how the windows were built…
"Yeah, I'd appreciate that." Kin stepped out of the kitchen and jerked open her room door (kept closed for the mess and the cold). The gesture she made towards the offending window was unneeded. It stood half-open, the WD-40 had helped with some movement, but it had then remained stuck and refused to shut. As a result, the cold air from outside was billowing in, the current wind not helping matters at all.
She shrugged. "I tried to move it some, and it opened fine, but didn't want to close after that. Heh." She stepped back to let the man have at the window. Perhaps he could figure out the problem. "Didn't know who else to go after, and Ino said our landlord's not the type to be easily found. So I guess I gotta bother you instead."
"Heh. Around here, at least." Asuma hadn’t seen Urahara in the apartment complex since he’d moved in - which, granted, wasn’t that long ago, but one would assume the apartment manager would try to be a little more… visible. "I kinda know the trick, though, so just let me know if you need to harass him. I’ll help you corner him."
He turned his attention to the window, limping into her room and giving the faulty equipment a once over. It wasn't rusted, so that wasn't a problem, nor did the window pane look cracked, so at least the frame wasn’t warped. And an experiment tug showed that it did have some give, but wasn’t going anywhere fast. He'd have to get it popped out of the frame to look at the springs...
"I kinda know the trick, though," he said absently, attention on the window, "so just let me know if you need to harass him. I’ll help you corner him."
Well, that would help if she could actually get ahold of Asuma on a regular basis, but seeing as she'd at least see him more than their ubiquitous landlord (who she had yet to meet), it was better than nothing. "I'll give you a heads up if I need to talk to him." She shrugged, hands on her hips, watching him fiddle with the window and its workings. "If you can fix it then I don't think I'd need to hunt him down, else I would."
“I’ll have to do a good job, then,” the older man replied, grinning slightly. Urahara would doubtless be hard to talk into fixing the window anyway, even if they could corner him in the back room of his shop. No one else seemed to have the greatest opinion of his skills at getting things fixed in the complex.
Excusing himself briefly to go grab his toolbox, he returned and perched on the windowsill and worked at prying the window pane out. Resetting the pane might do the trick, if the springs just got jammed. Then again, with as old as the building was, it might be all junked up.
"Eh. Well. I appreciate it," Kin told him. So long as she wasn't freezing to death in her sleep, she figured that anything he did would be better than her pathetic efforts. She watched as he got his toolbox and then worried at the mechanics of the window. Deciding to leave him in peace to deal with the window, she hesitated a little at the doorway, fingers tucked into the waistband of her skirt and offered, "I'm gonna make some omelettes. We got cheese and stuff in the fridge. You want one?"
It was her version of thanks. Least she could do, anyway, seeing as how she couldn't cook anything more complicated than eggs or pasta, for that matter.
He paused a moment, braced against the screwdriver he was using to pop the frame out of place, blinking back at her. It wasn’t an odd offer, not out of place, really - just not really expected.
"If it wouldn’t be going out of your way," he replied, and applied just a little more force, and crack the pane finally gave way. It sounded like the damn thing had broken, but quick inspection showed it hadn’t. And wiggling the other side out of the track showed that the runners on the sides were gunked up to hell and gone. Just cleaning it would do the trick.
It wasn't, and since he was going out of his way to be helpful to her, Kin didn't see why she shouldn't at least do something nice in return. She believed in tit for tat, an eye for an eye, or whatever other clichéd saying there was out there. "I'll get one started then," she told him, already disappearing into the kitchen, where she'd taken out the makings of an omelette.
It didn't take long for her to dig out a bowl and a frying pan, heating the latter over the stove while beating the eggs until they turned into a frothy yellow. As she worked, she could hear him working away in her room, doing whatever magic he was concocting for the recalcitrant window.
And as she worked in the kitchen, he worked in the bedroom, popping the springs out of the runners and cleaning the accumulated years of crap that had built up in the metal crevasses. It wasn’t really a major fix, just tedious, and getting the window pane back on the runners was the hardest part of all.
But fifteen minutes and a wash cloth later had taken care of most of the problem, and when he finally muscled the damn pane back into place it slid smoothly like it had never been stuck in the first place. Score one for tinkering! A victory omelette sounded good after that.
Asuma emerged from her bedroom, toolbox back in hand and gunked up washrag tucked inside. With the window closed behind him and no longer blowing the scent of the city into the room, the scent of the cooking was more obvious and more palatable. "Got it fixed."
"Awesome." Brow furrowed, Kin was occupied with flipping the omelette while keeping it whole. The trick, it seemed was all in the wrist. With a little careful and judicious application of the spatula, she got it turned over and flashed a grin at Asuma. "Well. You're in time. Your omelette's almost done and there's still some OJ if you want it."
While not exactly stellar in culinary matters in general, Kin could and did make a mean omelette. It was virtually the only other thing she ate besides pasta, and close to five years of weekly omelette preparations did tend to make one fairly good at cooking them. Once she'd carefully slid Asuma's omelette onto his plate, she poured the rest of the egg mixture into the pan. This next one was for her.
He matched her grin, murmuring a quick 'thanks" before going to drop the tool kit back off in his room. Breakfast for dinner always rocked - breakfast for any meal rocked - and this certainly smelled like good quality. And food usually always tasted better if someone else made it for you.
After returning he got some orange juice to go with the omelette, making sure to leave enough for her as well, and leaned a hip against the counter in the far side of the kitchen on taking his first bite. "Even better than it smells," he announced.
"Heh. Thanks." Kin shot the man a pleased smile. "Least I could do after you fixed the thing." She nodded towards the now-closed window in her bedroom, hair swinging with the motion. She swiveled the pan a little, nudging at the edges of the soft yellow disk with the spatula before flipping her omelette over and then letting the pan simmer over the stove while she helped herself to the rest of the orange juice.
Once the egg dish had been safely transferred onto her plate and the pan was soaking in the sink, she took a sip of her OJ and mentioned, "Heard you'd got yourself a job."
He twirled the fork in hand absently, glancing back over at her words. "Yeah. Finally. Stocking, basically, but it pays me well and keeps me busy." Real busy. Even though Urahara had pretty much stipulated that it was come and go as you like, there was more than enough work to keep him occupied while the shop doors were open. And that didn’t even count actually organizing the place, which looked like an impossible job…
After another bite of the omelette, he motioned at the younger woman with the utensil. "Heard you got through those tryouts, too. Not too keen on the actual performing, though?"
"Eh. I like performing fine." It was said with a shrug and the click of metal fork against ceramic dish as she dug into her omelette, as if to emphasis that point. "It's the bit before performing that I hate, really." Performing on stage was the fun part; it was where she got to lose herself in the music, in the twining of melody and harmony, the blending of multiple instruments playing their parts. That was the best part of the whole experience.
The bit where she had butterflies churning around as if caught up in a hurricane swirling in her stomach and the overwhelming urge to throw up were not highlights. All that wasn't anything she was particularly willing to share with anybody. It was a weakness, and weaknesses were not meant to be seen. Instead, she said, referencing his job. "Sounds like a mindless way to earn money."
"Oh yeah," he mumbled, and then had the presence of mind to swallow that bit of food before continuing. "It’s this sort of… antique junk shop sort of place. You could probably get lost browsing, really, but you’re right. It gets mindlessly repetitive after a while." A shrug, and the older man shifted against the counter, trying to keep the sharp edge from cutting into his hip. "But that’s how most jobs are."
Recalling her own painful experiences working retail, Kin could only agree. "Least you don't work with customers. Seriously. All the stupid people come out to play on the same damn day." She rolled her eyes, recalling the last moron that had graced the store with his presence. "Objects aren't usually too bad. Might be boring. It's people that bring the stupid with them."
Man, did he know about the stupid customer’s thing. His brief stint in car repair had shown him the depth of that madness. "For serious. I’ve had to work the register a few times here, but the people that have come in so far are the quiet types. The shop’s in a pretty out of the way place, thankfully."
"Customers," shrugged Kin. "Work with what you got, I guess." She took another bite of egg and cheese and washed it down with a swallow of juice. "Eh. We get our share of idiots. Working retail does that. Christmas is the worst time." She shook her head at the memory. After a year and a half there, she was a veteran of the midwinter retail wars.
Kin talked like someone well experienced with customer service. Hell, it was hard to get by in life without some kind of stint in that area. The people that managed to get by without, the ones that hid in the back of the office stuck in a cube with no social interaction were the lucky ones. They just didn't know it.
Already halfway through the omelette, as he had discovered an appetite that had been hiding from him on the way home, Asuma tilted his head to consider the younger woman. "Where do you work?" he asked out of curiosity.
"At the music store on the other side of the university." Unspoken was her reference to the other side of the university, where the more respectable businesses were. At least it was in a nicer neighbourhood than the one Lysgar was in. It really was a cushy job, if you could simper and kiss ass to the rich parents bringing their spoilt brats through for new instruments and assorted other music-related paraphernalia.
The older man nodded in response to her statement. He was familiar with where the university was, thought not with all the stores that surrounded it - but it made sense that Kin’s job would be related to music somehow. One tried to go with their strengths when it came to the job market, after all.
"At least it’s in a field you’re familiar with," he replied, and set about finishing off the omelette and orange juice.
Kin shrugged. "Heh, yeah. It has it perks." And boy did it. Discounted sheet music and other assorted items were most definitely huge perks, especially getting first shot at the clearance stuff. She finished off her omelette and juice; when hungry, she was not a delicate eater, and stuck the plate and glass in the sink, turning to get the pan that was still sitting on the stove. "I try to do what I'm good at."
“All you can do,” he agreed. And if you weren’t good at it, you made the attempt to fake it real well.
Asuma’s plate slipped into the sink not long after Kin’s, followed by the glass. “Thanks for the food,” he said again, and stepped back out of the way to give her clearance to the sink. It certainly was better than fast food or was at least, he considered as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, a great deal cheaper. And cheaper was almost always better when it came to food.
"Let me know if there’s anything else you need fixing," he continued, sticking one of the cigarettes between his lips. "Worst I could do is break it more."
"Eh, the food was no problem. I was gonna cook, anyhow." She nodded and started in on the dishes, the suds already covering the surface of the pan when he made his offer. "Sure, I'll know to look you up first 'fore going after our landlord. Thanks for fixing up the window."
"Any time," Asuma murmured around the now-lit Marlboro, stuffing the lighter back in his pocket. Although it would be easier to fix the second time around, now that he knew the trick to getting the pane out, with any luck there wouldn’t be another need to fix it.
And that seemed to be end of that. She had gotten her window fixed and he had gotten fed in payment, and his leg was bothering him (when didn’t it?) and he was ready to crash and sleep for a week (if only), so now it was time to make with the nice and excuse himself so he could.
"Have a good night." He pushed off in the direction of his room, shoving one hand in a jacket pocket and the other idly waving a goodbye. "Hopefully it won’t be another week before we see each other again."
Still, it was annoying, when the temperature in the rest of the building resembled a humid equatorial jungle, whilst her room was doing its level best to turn into the arctic. Well, perhaps the arctic was an exaggeration, but it was still pretty cold, especially at night when warmth was preferred and an air mattress on uncarpeted floors simply did little to conserve what heat she had. Her current attempts at window repair had once again proved fruitless, and thus she gave up the task in disgust, heading to the kitchen to see if they had perhaps something to drink or eat.
And after another day of work - which really, wasn't so bad, because he could move at his own pace and it wasn't very busy - Asuma arrived back at home and shouldered the door open. It stuck in the jam, even still after messing with the hinges a little, but at least it wasn't as bad as it was before. Though it would be even better if the door was located three stories lower. Well, no pain, no gain, as they said. All the exercise should be doing him good... even if it hurt like a bitch.
He tucked his keys back in his pocket, limped inside and pushed the door back closed behind him. Generally the apartment was empty when he got back from work - seven in the evening wasn’t late, but girls had stuff to do, apparently - but for a change Kin was there, poking around in the kitchen. First time he’d seen her in a few days.
"Hey," he said in greeting, mostly just to be polite. They hadn’t spoken enough since she'd moved in to be called friends (he hardly spoke to Ino, either), but it paid to be on good terms with your room mates.
"Evening," the reply was muffled by the refridgerator, dark head shoved in as she pulled out what remained of the orange juice and a carton of eggs. Turning around and shutting the door with her foot, she nodded at him, setting her bounty on the countertop. She'd barely seen him around since the day she'd moved in. Of course, she hardly ever saw Ino either, but whatever, she wasn't their keeper and nor were they hers.
Seeing him hobble in did remind her of her current irritant, though, and she might as well mention it now. Who knows when they'd next bump into each other? "You know the window in my bedroom that doesn't close? The WD-40 isn't working, and I've got no clue how to make it shut properly. It gets pretty cold at night, and it'd be nice if I could shut it some time."
Asuma paused at her words, shifting his weight to his good leg and unzipping his jacket. Hmm… he had said he’d take a crack at her window earlier. And now was as good a time as any, even if he hadn’t had a chance to sit down yet. Hell, did it really matter? He’d just fix the window - or try to, wouldn’t make it worse he figured - and crash back to sleep like he had been the last few days.
“I can take a look at it,” he replied. “No guarantees I can fix it, though.” If WD-40 wasn’t working it had probably come off the runners… or maybe the spring was broken or catching, depending on how the windows were built…
"Yeah, I'd appreciate that." Kin stepped out of the kitchen and jerked open her room door (kept closed for the mess and the cold). The gesture she made towards the offending window was unneeded. It stood half-open, the WD-40 had helped with some movement, but it had then remained stuck and refused to shut. As a result, the cold air from outside was billowing in, the current wind not helping matters at all.
She shrugged. "I tried to move it some, and it opened fine, but didn't want to close after that. Heh." She stepped back to let the man have at the window. Perhaps he could figure out the problem. "Didn't know who else to go after, and Ino said our landlord's not the type to be easily found. So I guess I gotta bother you instead."
"Heh. Around here, at least." Asuma hadn’t seen Urahara in the apartment complex since he’d moved in - which, granted, wasn’t that long ago, but one would assume the apartment manager would try to be a little more… visible. "I kinda know the trick, though, so just let me know if you need to harass him. I’ll help you corner him."
He turned his attention to the window, limping into her room and giving the faulty equipment a once over. It wasn't rusted, so that wasn't a problem, nor did the window pane look cracked, so at least the frame wasn’t warped. And an experiment tug showed that it did have some give, but wasn’t going anywhere fast. He'd have to get it popped out of the frame to look at the springs...
"I kinda know the trick, though," he said absently, attention on the window, "so just let me know if you need to harass him. I’ll help you corner him."
Well, that would help if she could actually get ahold of Asuma on a regular basis, but seeing as she'd at least see him more than their ubiquitous landlord (who she had yet to meet), it was better than nothing. "I'll give you a heads up if I need to talk to him." She shrugged, hands on her hips, watching him fiddle with the window and its workings. "If you can fix it then I don't think I'd need to hunt him down, else I would."
“I’ll have to do a good job, then,” the older man replied, grinning slightly. Urahara would doubtless be hard to talk into fixing the window anyway, even if they could corner him in the back room of his shop. No one else seemed to have the greatest opinion of his skills at getting things fixed in the complex.
Excusing himself briefly to go grab his toolbox, he returned and perched on the windowsill and worked at prying the window pane out. Resetting the pane might do the trick, if the springs just got jammed. Then again, with as old as the building was, it might be all junked up.
"Eh. Well. I appreciate it," Kin told him. So long as she wasn't freezing to death in her sleep, she figured that anything he did would be better than her pathetic efforts. She watched as he got his toolbox and then worried at the mechanics of the window. Deciding to leave him in peace to deal with the window, she hesitated a little at the doorway, fingers tucked into the waistband of her skirt and offered, "I'm gonna make some omelettes. We got cheese and stuff in the fridge. You want one?"
It was her version of thanks. Least she could do, anyway, seeing as how she couldn't cook anything more complicated than eggs or pasta, for that matter.
He paused a moment, braced against the screwdriver he was using to pop the frame out of place, blinking back at her. It wasn’t an odd offer, not out of place, really - just not really expected.
"If it wouldn’t be going out of your way," he replied, and applied just a little more force, and crack the pane finally gave way. It sounded like the damn thing had broken, but quick inspection showed it hadn’t. And wiggling the other side out of the track showed that the runners on the sides were gunked up to hell and gone. Just cleaning it would do the trick.
It wasn't, and since he was going out of his way to be helpful to her, Kin didn't see why she shouldn't at least do something nice in return. She believed in tit for tat, an eye for an eye, or whatever other clichéd saying there was out there. "I'll get one started then," she told him, already disappearing into the kitchen, where she'd taken out the makings of an omelette.
It didn't take long for her to dig out a bowl and a frying pan, heating the latter over the stove while beating the eggs until they turned into a frothy yellow. As she worked, she could hear him working away in her room, doing whatever magic he was concocting for the recalcitrant window.
And as she worked in the kitchen, he worked in the bedroom, popping the springs out of the runners and cleaning the accumulated years of crap that had built up in the metal crevasses. It wasn’t really a major fix, just tedious, and getting the window pane back on the runners was the hardest part of all.
But fifteen minutes and a wash cloth later had taken care of most of the problem, and when he finally muscled the damn pane back into place it slid smoothly like it had never been stuck in the first place. Score one for tinkering! A victory omelette sounded good after that.
Asuma emerged from her bedroom, toolbox back in hand and gunked up washrag tucked inside. With the window closed behind him and no longer blowing the scent of the city into the room, the scent of the cooking was more obvious and more palatable. "Got it fixed."
"Awesome." Brow furrowed, Kin was occupied with flipping the omelette while keeping it whole. The trick, it seemed was all in the wrist. With a little careful and judicious application of the spatula, she got it turned over and flashed a grin at Asuma. "Well. You're in time. Your omelette's almost done and there's still some OJ if you want it."
While not exactly stellar in culinary matters in general, Kin could and did make a mean omelette. It was virtually the only other thing she ate besides pasta, and close to five years of weekly omelette preparations did tend to make one fairly good at cooking them. Once she'd carefully slid Asuma's omelette onto his plate, she poured the rest of the egg mixture into the pan. This next one was for her.
He matched her grin, murmuring a quick 'thanks" before going to drop the tool kit back off in his room. Breakfast for dinner always rocked - breakfast for any meal rocked - and this certainly smelled like good quality. And food usually always tasted better if someone else made it for you.
After returning he got some orange juice to go with the omelette, making sure to leave enough for her as well, and leaned a hip against the counter in the far side of the kitchen on taking his first bite. "Even better than it smells," he announced.
"Heh. Thanks." Kin shot the man a pleased smile. "Least I could do after you fixed the thing." She nodded towards the now-closed window in her bedroom, hair swinging with the motion. She swiveled the pan a little, nudging at the edges of the soft yellow disk with the spatula before flipping her omelette over and then letting the pan simmer over the stove while she helped herself to the rest of the orange juice.
Once the egg dish had been safely transferred onto her plate and the pan was soaking in the sink, she took a sip of her OJ and mentioned, "Heard you'd got yourself a job."
He twirled the fork in hand absently, glancing back over at her words. "Yeah. Finally. Stocking, basically, but it pays me well and keeps me busy." Real busy. Even though Urahara had pretty much stipulated that it was come and go as you like, there was more than enough work to keep him occupied while the shop doors were open. And that didn’t even count actually organizing the place, which looked like an impossible job…
After another bite of the omelette, he motioned at the younger woman with the utensil. "Heard you got through those tryouts, too. Not too keen on the actual performing, though?"
"Eh. I like performing fine." It was said with a shrug and the click of metal fork against ceramic dish as she dug into her omelette, as if to emphasis that point. "It's the bit before performing that I hate, really." Performing on stage was the fun part; it was where she got to lose herself in the music, in the twining of melody and harmony, the blending of multiple instruments playing their parts. That was the best part of the whole experience.
The bit where she had butterflies churning around as if caught up in a hurricane swirling in her stomach and the overwhelming urge to throw up were not highlights. All that wasn't anything she was particularly willing to share with anybody. It was a weakness, and weaknesses were not meant to be seen. Instead, she said, referencing his job. "Sounds like a mindless way to earn money."
"Oh yeah," he mumbled, and then had the presence of mind to swallow that bit of food before continuing. "It’s this sort of… antique junk shop sort of place. You could probably get lost browsing, really, but you’re right. It gets mindlessly repetitive after a while." A shrug, and the older man shifted against the counter, trying to keep the sharp edge from cutting into his hip. "But that’s how most jobs are."
Recalling her own painful experiences working retail, Kin could only agree. "Least you don't work with customers. Seriously. All the stupid people come out to play on the same damn day." She rolled her eyes, recalling the last moron that had graced the store with his presence. "Objects aren't usually too bad. Might be boring. It's people that bring the stupid with them."
Man, did he know about the stupid customer’s thing. His brief stint in car repair had shown him the depth of that madness. "For serious. I’ve had to work the register a few times here, but the people that have come in so far are the quiet types. The shop’s in a pretty out of the way place, thankfully."
"Customers," shrugged Kin. "Work with what you got, I guess." She took another bite of egg and cheese and washed it down with a swallow of juice. "Eh. We get our share of idiots. Working retail does that. Christmas is the worst time." She shook her head at the memory. After a year and a half there, she was a veteran of the midwinter retail wars.
Kin talked like someone well experienced with customer service. Hell, it was hard to get by in life without some kind of stint in that area. The people that managed to get by without, the ones that hid in the back of the office stuck in a cube with no social interaction were the lucky ones. They just didn't know it.
Already halfway through the omelette, as he had discovered an appetite that had been hiding from him on the way home, Asuma tilted his head to consider the younger woman. "Where do you work?" he asked out of curiosity.
"At the music store on the other side of the university." Unspoken was her reference to the other side of the university, where the more respectable businesses were. At least it was in a nicer neighbourhood than the one Lysgar was in. It really was a cushy job, if you could simper and kiss ass to the rich parents bringing their spoilt brats through for new instruments and assorted other music-related paraphernalia.
The older man nodded in response to her statement. He was familiar with where the university was, thought not with all the stores that surrounded it - but it made sense that Kin’s job would be related to music somehow. One tried to go with their strengths when it came to the job market, after all.
"At least it’s in a field you’re familiar with," he replied, and set about finishing off the omelette and orange juice.
Kin shrugged. "Heh, yeah. It has it perks." And boy did it. Discounted sheet music and other assorted items were most definitely huge perks, especially getting first shot at the clearance stuff. She finished off her omelette and juice; when hungry, she was not a delicate eater, and stuck the plate and glass in the sink, turning to get the pan that was still sitting on the stove. "I try to do what I'm good at."
“All you can do,” he agreed. And if you weren’t good at it, you made the attempt to fake it real well.
Asuma’s plate slipped into the sink not long after Kin’s, followed by the glass. “Thanks for the food,” he said again, and stepped back out of the way to give her clearance to the sink. It certainly was better than fast food or was at least, he considered as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, a great deal cheaper. And cheaper was almost always better when it came to food.
"Let me know if there’s anything else you need fixing," he continued, sticking one of the cigarettes between his lips. "Worst I could do is break it more."
"Eh, the food was no problem. I was gonna cook, anyhow." She nodded and started in on the dishes, the suds already covering the surface of the pan when he made his offer. "Sure, I'll know to look you up first 'fore going after our landlord. Thanks for fixing up the window."
"Any time," Asuma murmured around the now-lit Marlboro, stuffing the lighter back in his pocket. Although it would be easier to fix the second time around, now that he knew the trick to getting the pane out, with any luck there wouldn’t be another need to fix it.
And that seemed to be end of that. She had gotten her window fixed and he had gotten fed in payment, and his leg was bothering him (when didn’t it?) and he was ready to crash and sleep for a week (if only), so now it was time to make with the nice and excuse himself so he could.
"Have a good night." He pushed off in the direction of his room, shoving one hand in a jacket pocket and the other idly waving a goodbye. "Hopefully it won’t be another week before we see each other again."