Who: Kanda and anyone who wants to run into him.
What: Too much story telling yields sore throat and a need for tea.
Where: The kitchen.
When: Just after all the poyos disappear.
"And then that idiot went and"--cough, cough, cough--"drove his own sword"--cough--"through his chest like it wasn't going to do anything to hi--Kanda blinked. For an
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Entering the kitchen, he caught sight of another man, glancing at him briefly before he started looking for any medicine for sore muscles. He wasn't sure where he's seen him before, probably spoke to him on the network or something similar, but right now it wasn't as if there was a reason for him to talk. Searching the cabinets, he let out a small sound of triumph as he was rewarded with some familiar herbs, realizing almost immediately that he would have to wait until the other man finished brewing his tea before he could even try to brew the herbs.
He walked over to him hesitantly, before he leaned against the nearby counter quietly, waiting.
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Since that was definitely not the sort of thing that would have ever occurred to Kanda on his own, it meant that he owed the kid a debt of sorts, or at the very least owed him a thank you. And, arrogant and ruthless though he was, Kanda did know how to say thank you.
On the other hand, he was tired, didn't want to talk any more, and generally not in a very good mood. It also grated on his nerves more than a little to have someone hovering nearby and waiting expectantly for him to finish what he was doing.
Still....
Kanda took a cup down from the shelf and acknowledged the newcomer with a nod. "You're the one who told me to talk to them," he managed, his voice coming out in a raw cracked whisper that made him wince. He lifted the little tea pot and poured a cup, sipping a mouthful to soothe his throat so that his voice sounded marginally less thready. "Thanks for that."
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Nonetheless, he gave him a smile though, nodding in acknowledgment. His throat hurt too much to speak at the moment, even if he wanted to, so he hoped that at least he would accept that much for a reply. As soon as he was able to though, he quickly tried to figure out how to work the appliance he had seen the other use, mimicking what he did in order to make fire come out of it.
Once that was done, he started brewing the herbs he had gotten, wrinkling his nose slightly in distaste at the smell, which normally reflected the taste. This was one reason he didn't like medicines. Ugh.
As long as it helps with the aches, he could probably live with it.
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