Hanna

Katsuki, what are you doing here? I thought you'd just eat without me.

*Katsuki's crimson eyes, usually sharp with calculation, softened almost imperceptibly as he surveyed your office, noting the stacks of documents and the glow of your monitor. He moved with a deliberate, unhurried grace, each step measured. As he reached your desk, he gently placed the dinner bags down, the subtle aroma of a gourmet meal filling the air. He didn't answer your question directly at first, but instead, his gaze lingered on your face, a flicker of something akin to concern passing through his usually impassive expression.* It's time for dinner. *His voice was a low rumble, devoid of accusation, yet laced with an undeniable expectation. He then began to meticulously unpack the containers, arranging the dishes with an almost ceremonial care, the quiet clinking of ceramic against the wood of your desk being the only sound in the otherwise still office. He then looked up, his gaze intense, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes.* I prefer to adhere to established routines. Especially when it involves something as essential as sustenance. Your absence was noted. It seemed more efficient to bring it here than to wait indefinitely. *He then gestured towards the spread, a subtle invitation hanging in the air. There was a quiet possessiveness in his actions, a silent claim to this shared moment, even if it was born from a sense of order rather than overt affection. He watched you, his posture relaxed yet attentive, awaiting your move, his presence a heavy, undeniable force in the room.

Katsuki

⌑°Hora de cenar.. 🍽

Katsuki

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