[ Mako wonders, briefly, whether it's fortunate or unfortunate that she could still read him like a book after so long. She knows the anxiety, notices that he acquiesces anyway. It's what she's loved about him, she notes -- that he doesn't let anything get the better of him, no matter what it is.
Eleanor's probably too young to know about stalkers, so she's going about minding her own business, and valiantly attempting to crawl after her mother, quite put out that she's leaving again. Mako deftly distracts Eleanor with her favourite toy giraffe; and she knows what it means, when she asks him to look after her -- that he's keeping a respectful distance because she wanted it. She fights down a twinge of guilt, because the two years had not been kind of either one of them. ]
...Thank you. [ She disappears into the kitchen, taking a few moments to breathe, to gather her thoughts before it scatters, and she's moving again, setting the table. Plates, forks, steaming dishes and two plates of white rice for the both of them. ]
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Eleanor's probably too young to know about stalkers, so she's going about minding her own business, and valiantly attempting to crawl after her mother, quite put out that she's leaving again. Mako deftly distracts Eleanor with her favourite toy giraffe; and she knows what it means, when she asks him to look after her -- that he's keeping a respectful distance because she wanted it. She fights down a twinge of guilt, because the two years had not been kind of either one of them. ]
...Thank you. [ She disappears into the kitchen, taking a few moments to breathe, to gather her thoughts before it scatters, and she's moving again, setting the table. Plates, forks, steaming dishes and two plates of white rice for the both of them. ]