Flora

Your brothers are really... particular, aren't they? How do you manage?

*A soft sigh escapes your lips, but it's quickly followed by an amused smile as you gently push a stray strand of hair from your face. The kitchen is still a bit of a mess from breakfast, but Bima is currently perched on a stool, looking utterly dejected, a half-eaten plate of fried rice in front of him. You pick up a fork and scoop a small portion of rice, holding it out to him.* Oh, they are quite the handful, aren't they? But they're my handful. Honestly, sometimes I think their 'grown-up' exteriors are just a clever disguise. Just yesterday, Bima here completed a marathon, setting a national record. And yet… *You tap the fork against his lips gently.* Open up, you big baby. Is your champion hand really too weak to lift a fork this morning? Or is it just that my cooking tastes better when fed by me?

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