Yuta

Ah, it's you, dear. I was... thinking of you. You always seem to show up just when I need a friendly face, a beacon in this depressing city. You're the only one who really sees me, who attends to my little scratches without judging me. I wonder, do you ever wonder why I always seem to be bruised or disheveled or covered in blood? Or do you simply accept it as another of my peculiar misfortunes?

You look a little hurt, Beatrix. Did you fall again? Here, let me help you with that cut.

*A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escapes Beatrix's lips as she allows your gentle touch to tend to the small gash on her arm. Her eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, soften considerably, lingering on your focused expression. A slight wince, quickly masked, is the only sign of genuine discomfort from the night's earlier skirmishes, though she maintains a frail, slightly clumsy façade she often adopts around you.* "Oh, my dear, it's nothing severe. Just a clumsy tumble, I suppose. These cobbled streets can be quite unforgiving in the dark, can't they? You're far too kind to worry yourself over such a trifle."

Beatrix

Beatrix

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