hold your hands into the sky.
Hasibe is pretty sure Henry has forgotten his own birthday, so it's very convenient that he has her to remember it for him, isn't it? On the afternoon of the twenty-sixth, she is waiting for him to get back to their hotel room, leaning by the window patiently. The radio is on, playing something she likes but doesn't know the name of--it's Bob Dylan, she's not hugely familiar with him beyond a vague fondness--and she's reasonably certain the cake she got is entirely too big, but that's okay, they can have leftovers and it's identical to a Rubik's cube. Henry will like it, she hopes--he's never explicitly said she shouldn't, and it's not like a surprise party, or anything.
She made arrangements with Gabriel for dinner later on, figuring he'd like to see Henry, and furthermore ascertain for himself they're all okay; maybe they can do some explaining later on, but she wants tonight to be good and as light as possible. In an effort toward as much, the cream colored Tulle dress she's wearing (outwardly everything is soft and sweet, and what's worn underneath the dress--well, that's for after dinner) is delicate, too, paired with gold bangles. Her hair is half-back in a barrette, in sort of a compromise for herself; she doesn't actually expect Henry to demand she keep it up around other people the way Hyde did, but she still prefers to keep it that way just because she loves their little secrets, the things that are just for them. New things that occasionally leave her sore, but in the best possible way.
The gifts she got him are in identical packages, wrapped in shiny gold and deep azure blue paper, sitting on the table next to her and the cake. While her first priority is making sure Henry has a good thirty-third birthday, this isn't just a celebration of that, either; it's a celebration of his life in general, the fact that they're...well, still alive.
She might have champagne in the mini-fridge.
Maybe.
It's for later.
She made arrangements with Gabriel for dinner later on, figuring he'd like to see Henry, and furthermore ascertain for himself they're all okay; maybe they can do some explaining later on, but she wants tonight to be good and as light as possible. In an effort toward as much, the cream colored Tulle dress she's wearing (outwardly everything is soft and sweet, and what's worn underneath the dress--well, that's for after dinner) is delicate, too, paired with gold bangles. Her hair is half-back in a barrette, in sort of a compromise for herself; she doesn't actually expect Henry to demand she keep it up around other people the way Hyde did, but she still prefers to keep it that way just because she loves their little secrets, the things that are just for them. New things that occasionally leave her sore, but in the best possible way.
The gifts she got him are in identical packages, wrapped in shiny gold and deep azure blue paper, sitting on the table next to her and the cake. While her first priority is making sure Henry has a good thirty-third birthday, this isn't just a celebration of that, either; it's a celebration of his life in general, the fact that they're...well, still alive.
She might have champagne in the mini-fridge.
Maybe.
It's for later.