The tighter grip is noticed, but no comment is given towards it. Instead he
silently wonders if telling her that she was allowed to do whatever she
wanted. To be honest, as long as it wasn’t anything particularly harmful, he
didn’t see the issue. While she was a member of the Port Mafia, she was
still a kid and most likely had kid-like interests to go along with it.
Babysitting would go a lot easier if she was doing something childlike, he
figures. “Probably,” Chuuya begins, not for certain the exact location of one,
but it’s more than likely that there’s one nearby. “I’m not sure where it is
right off the bat, but I bet we can find something.”
◣ ✿ ◥ So it appeared that her pre-planned explanation of improving accuracy and reaction time and such weren’t needed. Kyouka could never be too sure when it came to adults, especially now that said adults that took care of her were hardened criminals. Nodding, she thought back to the maps she’d memorised to figure out where the closest arcade was (or at least, the most probable location of one), and, ah, she was in luck. With no verbal warning, she changed direction, dragging the executive along with her. “There’s one this way.”
“Mm, maybe,” is his remark on the matter, deciding that he’ll take it with
him. Keeping the milk away from a cold source for a significant amount of
time wasn’t a good idea, but apparently it was better than leaving the
carton behind. When she grips his sleeve, Chuuya lets it happen because,
while he doesn’t exactly expect it, it’s better than her getting lost. He even
lets his arm fall so that it’s closer to her reach, feeling weirdly soft when he
soft it. What the hell… “Whatever, I guess. I’m supposed to be watching
you, but it’s not like I was given step by step directions on what to do with
you.”
◣ ✿ ◥ Kyouka adjusted her grip when he moved his arm, getting a more secure grip on the executive. Whatever? That meant they could do whatever she wanted to, right? It was a pleasant response, especially after she’d given him a chance to dictate what they did for the rest of the day, and she planned to make use of it. In the back of her mind, she wondered who would give step-by-step instructions on babysitting in the first place, but she didn’t voice the thought. “Is there an arcade nearby? I like playing games.” If asked, she’d insist that it was a method of training too; she already had the argument laid out and ready to go.
After handing her the proper milk that she had wanted in the first place,
Chuuya gives an annoyed look, almost like a glare, to the skim milk box in
his palm. Just what was he supposed to do with this now? While he had
just fought that skim milk was actually milk, it didn’t mean that he actually
liked it. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, contemplating just leaving the milk there.
◣ ✿ ◥ As the girl sipped at her drink, she watched the elder. “Kouyou-san might like it,” she suggested; after all, even if she didn’t want it (and apparently neither did he), she didn’t think it should be thrown away. Wasting food was bad. After the statement, she stepped closer to him, her free hand reaching up to grip his sleeve–likely to prevent herself from wandering off should anything catch her interest. She didn’t want to get scolded for that. “What now?”
“It is.” His response is just as blunt and to the point, firm on his opinion. It
annoys him that she asks for another one, especially when it wasn’t like
they could return the skim milk, but…. “Ch…” he starts, teeth grating to
make such a sound, before fishing out the appropriate amount of money
again. “If you’ll stop complaining about skim milk, then yeah.”
◣ ✿ ◥ Kyouka nodded as a means of confirming that she would indeed stop complaining before taking the money from him, replacing it with the skim milk, and padding back over to the vending machine to buy a new one. This time, upon putting in the correct and hitting the correct button, the correct drink came out. She took it and and returned to Chuuya’s side. “Thank you,” she said as she opened the drink, taking a small sip from it.
◣ ✿ ◥ The look Kyouka gave him in return clearly said that she didn’t want to. “It’s not milk.” To think, all this trouble arose from a single mistake–one that caused the vending machine to dispense skim milk instead of what she actually wanted. “Can I get a new one?”
