Welcome to Gaia! ::

It was an odd thing to sit up alone in an old house one wasn't quite familiar with yet. Hitsuga listened to the occasional murmurs of the beams as the walls "talked". When one was comfortably-settled in their home, it was a subaudible and soothing sound, he supposed.

To him, though, barely moved-in and with hardly any furniture yet, it only made him uneasy. Added to the fact that his mind had been buzzing since early that evening, and it was quickly shaping up to be another of 'those' nights.

The nights that, had he been home, he would have drawn every drape and blind in his shop and settled on his bed with the newest philosophers' publications to keep him company. The nights that he did not sleep until well into the wee hours of the morning, if at all.

The nights she wouldn't stop chasing about in his head.

His company tonight, as he sat at the wooden table that was now perched near the small kitchen area, was a handful of Gaian magazines, of which he could read not a word, and the pot of tea he'd just finished brewing. And he sat, in silence, with his head propped beneath one hand, the other methodically turning the pages to stare at the pictures of people and places that held absolutely no significance to him.

It was better, at least, than staring at the walls, though didn't keep his mind from wandering to the dark corners he truly wished it would STOP wandering....

He gasps as the sharpness of the knock permeates the silence he'd been engulfed in for the last span of hours, startled by it.

What time is it...? He doesn't know. It is surely too late for the normal fare of visitors, though...

Hitsuga, nonetheless, scuttles to his feet and grabs for the outer garment that sits draped over the chair behind him, quickly throwing it over his shoulders and wrapping himself in it. He projects a gentle, if somewhat flustered, assurance that he will be right there to whomever is waiting as he moves through the house, cinching the waist and smoothing his fingers through his hair as he goes, in hopes he will look, if nothing else, presentable by the time he reaches the door.

Taking a deep breath, he opens it to reveal the chirring symphony of spring crickets and...

Lady Rika...

His projections are of mingled surprise and puzzlement, though he offers as warm of a greeting as he is able.

Is she all right, he inquires?

He moves obediently aside to allow her entry, knowing he'd be in no position to turn her away, things being what they were, even if he DID have enough resolve to remind her of how late it was.

Ill? No. Well....

He reconsiders his answer. Then, more assuredly. No. He is not ill. Just having a bad night, he supposes.

He would offer her some tea, but if that's precisely what's keeping her awake, he doesn't suppose she is interested. sweatdrop

He thanks her very much, and assures her what's keeping him up doesn't require medicine. But....

His eyes momentarily look to the wall, as he considers things privately. Had his security and familiarity in this place been well-cemented, the idea of another person in his space, especially in his current frame of mind, would be repulsive to him. As he has neither security nor familiarity yet, Rika has never given him any reason to believe that she has anything but good intentions toward him.

....but if she has nowhere she would rather be, he continues, he would not mind the company. He gives her a smile that tries to be genuine, though it looks to be tired, perhaps a bit strained.

Oh no, he insists, projections of reassurance issuing from him. Its all right. Really! She is already here, she may as well stay for a bit.

......

....though he asks her to wait just a moment, as he bustles into the back area of the house, into his workroom to retrieve the chair from inside, and carry it with him to join the one at the table so that the both of them can sit.

There, that's better... sweatdrop He apologizes, he hasn't had much time to look at furnishings yet. His mind has been a bit preoccupied with getting the lab operational.

He flushes a bit, and gives a small shake of his head. No, he's afraid he can't, he admits as he seats himself in the other chair. It is something he supposes he's going to need to teach himself in the coming weeks if he's to properly run a shop here, though.

They are just something to look at, really. It helps to get his mind off of the idea he should be in bed, he adds with a small chuckle that does not lighten the mood, but seems to fall flat instead.

....

Clearing his throat, he opens one of the other magazines to leaf through.

Aside from tea keeping her awake, are things well with herself and Master Setsushi, he inquires?

He'd lifted his head in rapt interest as she'd mentioned the prospect of, at least, some of her equipment being operational again. Though, at the mention of Baikou, his shoulders tense.

A flutter of anxiety, heartbreak, and sadness issues from him that he, in his current frame of mind, cannot rope back in time to keep from escaping.

For a long moment, he is silent, and then draws a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

If....Baikou would want to hear it, then yes. He would like that.

....if it would hurt her, though.....

more than he already has...

Hitsuga's eyes close, and his hands fold around the teacup that sits before him as if he'd meant to lift it to take a swallow from it, and forgot halfway through the familiar motion.

.....it is not that he does not want to see her, he ventures at last, his eyes daring to meet Rika's. And it is not that he loathes the mention of her name. It is, simply, that he does not want to complicate her life.

He has done enough of that....more than enough.

And as she has a new husband, for all he knows, a family of her own now, he feels she is well-deserving of her happiness.

His eyes flick back to the tabletop.

.....he is curious, he ventures carefully, perhaps a bit frightfully. How much of him has Baikou spoken? How much does Rika know of what transpired?