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What have you been breaking...

[ He walks until he gets to the window right next to the front door, and makes a point of bringing Angela's hand up to rest on the ledge before letting go. Window latch. He said "latch." Don't break the actual window, or the draft will come in. ]

Hearts. [Somehow...she finds it hard to resist actually punching through the window–-but she does. With relative ease, she breaks the latch and moves aside for Minato to do his thing, giving him a glance.]

Just kidding.

[ Hearts... But also hearts in multiple... ]

I hope that was people professing their undying love for you, but you had to kindly decline.

[ And not like. Breaking heart stones, which is what Minato's mind immediately went to.

He slides the window over to the side and goes ahead and climbs in before stepping aside so Angela can do the same. ...There's the front door right next to him that he could unlock and invite her inside that way, but. The window's right here and open. ]

Sure.

[She smiles, wiggling into his apartment through the window. It makes her smile. Like they're young teenagers all of a sudden, sneaking around. Angela then rubs the back of her neck, peering around the room.]

...Welcome home.

[ He only takes a cursory glance around the room— it looks the same as always, untouched for all these weeks and just a little stuffy without the heater on that usually circulates the air. Leaving the window open will help with that, so he turns back to Angela before he speaks again. ]

I'm home.

[ More than just the city, it's his apartment, his own personal space. Home. ]

...You looked tired too. Do you want anything? Otherwise if I sit down, I don't know if I can get back up again.

Oh?

Did you invite me in here to take another nap with you, Minato?

I wanted to see you again, but I can't if I'm asleep. [ ...The denial is weak. ] Do you want to take another nap with me?

[The corner of her lips and her eyebrows twitch ever slightly as her fingers curl at her sides. A short, teasing laugh comes from her mouth.]

In your bed?

[ On one hand, the laugh is nice to hear. On the other hand, it's at his expense and Minato makes as if he wants to laugh but doesn't know how much to read into implications. ]

If you're okay with a small, twin-sized bed. It's wider than the couch at least.

[She snatches his hand with her own, squeezing gently because she could definitely crush it if she's not careful.]

Take me there.

[ Thank you for not reducing all the bones in his hands to powder. He doesn't know how strong her robotic arms are, but he'd like to assume they're about on the same level as James' or Natalia's and not think too much about them as weapons.

Anyways-

Down the hall, the very last door on the right. The room is dark when he opens the door, the curtains drawn shut and bed neatly made. ...It's also getting sort of musty in here, unlike the living room that at least has a wider space to spread things out. Gross. ]

[Must. How attractive. Angela takes off the light jacket she had been wearing, leaving her vulnerable in a small t-shirt that accentuates her strange arms. She takes a seat on the bed, patting the spot next to her.]

[ It's not, it's gross and if there's mold, it's going to be terrible for Minato's lungs, but he's not even sure the windows in his bedroom opens because he never opens them.

It's his closet he goes to first instead of the bed, because- ]

Hold on, I waded through swamp water in these clothes. Let me find something to change into first.

[Another laugh. A normal laugh, a good laugh.]

I can wait if you need to shower, Minato.

[ oh thank god, he hasn't had a proper shower in two weeks ]

Fifteen minutes. Be right back.

Sure. I'll be here. [She'll kick her feet up onto the bed, reclining properly as her gaze finds the ceiling instead of Minato.]

Take your time.

[ /reenacts the Shirakawa Boulevard scene--

but not really. Minato leaves and takes a change of clothes with him and disappears out into the shared bathroom on the other side of the hall, toying with the thought of just filling up the tub and letting himself soak for two hours because no one's been home for a month and that means their water bill wouldn't be ginormous.

15 minutes as promised, in a t-shirt and sweats and sobbing wet hair that he neither bothered to towel dry or comb down before he dumps his old clothes into a hamper somewhere in the corner of his room and bellyflops onto his bed. ]

[Maybe it's his imagination, but when he turns to Angela in the bed he might find her laying there wearing...decidedly less. Her pants have magically disappeared and been replaced with a tiny pair of shorts. The window is cracked slightly. Daintily, she reaches out and touches his hair with her hands, the soft, imitation flesh of the inside of her palm and fingers brushing it around lightly.]

Your hair is still wet.

[ ..........I probably did mean sopping wet hair but I'm just freudian slipping everywhere today ]

It'll- ...dry.

[ His voice catches in his throat when he turns to look at her because 1) why is the window open, 2) it's March and it's cold and she's wearing shorts, 3) those are really short shorts ]

[~~be careful what you wish for~~]

[Her hands travel downward, one gently cupping his face––big blue eyes peering into the subject of her attention. Her other hand presses gently against his chest now.]

You're warm. [Even with the muted, artificial nerves, she can tell.]

But you're probably feeling the opposite...[And one of her legs nudges his, with dubious intent.]

So...[Her words disappear into a long, slow exhale of hot breath...]

[ His hands are cold because they always are, but he can definitely feel the heat up the back of his neck and is glad that's not where Angela is touching. Can't do anything to hide how hard his heart hammers in his chest, though, but maybe it's under a thick enough set of ribs that she can't feel it. ]

I just took a hot shower, so...

[ So!!!

...

So he pulls up the covers and throws it over her head, she looks colder than him and now she doesn't have to look at him. ]

[. . .

The hand on his chest straightens out, now poking him instead.]

...Is something wrong? [She says from underneath the veil he has hoisted upon her.]

[ Very obviously something wrong because he's hiding but he shakes his head no anyways, even though she can't see him. ]

I'm not used to being touched. [ a pause, because he knows that's something Angela has been working on, hands on his arm, fingers interlaced with his, pressed against his chest... ] Like that.

[Angela will peek out from the covers before this becomes rather ridiculous.]

...Like what? I was just...[Touching you normally...?]

Like...

[ He's not going to say it. Instead, when she pulls the covers off from over her head, he reaches over and returns that same gesture of cupping her face with his hand.

...Both hands. Squishes her cheeks in between his palms. ]

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