hazel orbs flickered && averted–set upon herculean task. lip drawn tight. thin brows knitted together (& pondering. ) perhaps words such as those had been forlorn? sad? unlikely. overthinking it, not everything had an answer. things made sense that way. package delivered —– task COMPLETE ; hubris took hold & back before her, hybrid stood. palms set to rub at roughed flesh && ease any abrasion.
“when you say it like that it sounds funny, you know?”
fingers coiled tight around forearm && soon relaxed. extremity set to push glasses from divine visage. orbs peering & studying. quick motion (and) grace, brought soft fist to contact with her shoulder. light–with care / not to cause harm.
“you can depend on me. now, how many more boxes are there anyways?”
The fist that gestured so cordially against her broad shoulder felt almost like a foreign comfort of searing sunlight; his warmth banishing the institutional chill that seemed to have rooted itself into her very core, successfully defrosting a fraction of ice that encased her rancor heart. Bradley’s hand was undeniably soft, almost divine-like - a hand that heals, comforts, & protects. It was such a patent contrary to Yukina’s rugged palms ( ones that embellished by semblance of scars, each harboring their own indelible history. )
You can depend on me.*
❝ Brad… ❞ she croaked tenderly, resurrecting a voice that had long since been locked away. ❝ You are done for today. ❞ And with that, she smiled in that curious way of hers ━- mirth tugging at her placid lips in a manner that seemed almost ill-practiced.