[That might not be precisely what Akira was demanding to hear, but the line of her chin is approving regardless. She'll accept it. That doesn't keep her from glaring, though, the familiar narrowing of her eyes. She remembers feeling blown back the first time Shindou ever called her an idiot. Hearing it still eats at her and maybe it always will, but she's glad, regardless, that she never did strangle Shindou on any of those appalled or outraged occasions she thought about doing it. More of them will arise, she's sure, but she thinks she can keep from doing it then, too. Once she gets her handkerchief back, she'll use it to remind herself not to strangle Shindou.] I encourage you to keep an eye out for me. [She says it like a dry retort, even when her next words are half an oath of fealty.] I'm going to be right there with you. [They're also half a threat.] If you lose sight of me, it's going to be a mistake. [It would hurt Akira so wildly. She has to make sure Shindou would feel the loss, too.
But Akira is an idiot, you know, because one curve of Shindou's lips, and Akira wishes only to keep her from harm, even at her own expense. That smile, filtered past the tide of tears, makes Shindou look like she's stumbling toward Akira, out of a storm. Akira wants to be stumbled toward. She wants to catch Shindou in her arms and pull her inside, into shelter. The result of this want is an indelicate stare, and Akira realizes it. She tries to be quick about turning her head away, and she tries not to think about her own sharp intake of breath. There's something stubborn about the seconds she spends not watching Shindou. It takes away from her height; she casts a smaller shadow. She's even less of a monolith when she bends down to hook her fingers into the heels of both of Shindou's stylish shoes, picking them up. And when she straightens, and finally holds out her hand, it's with the relief of eating aspirin, like a kindness done unto herself. She isn't stooping down to reach for Shindou, but her hand is open, far from clawing.] Of course we're not going back. Come on. I can take you to your room. [Down. Wind down. Akira feels like she can't allow Shindou to climb up another floor. If she's allowed it, she'll lead Shindou down step by step. She'll deliver Shindou to her hotel room with real safety. She can't trust anyone else to do that, after all.]
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But Akira is an idiot, you know, because one curve of Shindou's lips, and Akira wishes only to keep her from harm, even at her own expense. That smile, filtered past the tide of tears, makes Shindou look like she's stumbling toward Akira, out of a storm. Akira wants to be stumbled toward. She wants to catch Shindou in her arms and pull her inside, into shelter. The result of this want is an indelicate stare, and Akira realizes it. She tries to be quick about turning her head away, and she tries not to think about her own sharp intake of breath. There's something stubborn about the seconds she spends not watching Shindou. It takes away from her height; she casts a smaller shadow. She's even less of a monolith when she bends down to hook her fingers into the heels of both of Shindou's stylish shoes, picking them up. And when she straightens, and finally holds out her hand, it's with the relief of eating aspirin, like a kindness done unto herself. She isn't stooping down to reach for Shindou, but her hand is open, far from clawing.] Of course we're not going back. Come on. I can take you to your room. [Down. Wind down. Akira feels like she can't allow Shindou to climb up another floor. If she's allowed it, she'll lead Shindou down step by step. She'll deliver Shindou to her hotel room with real safety. She can't trust anyone else to do that, after all.]