closed for once! whoops.

[inthejunk]

Who: Unohana and Hanamura
When: Thursday night
Where: Unohana's place...which is Yosuke's place now, too.
Summary: Yosuke wasn't allowed to be released from baby jail until a responsible adult claimed him. Unohana volunteered her responsible adult services. Now, there is that whole awkward thing where they get to know each other. And also, something about a haunted rocking chair.
Warnings: Awkwardness, Yosuke being shy for once, haunted furniture, guilt plague grossness. Nope, no language warning this time, he watches his mouth around old ladies.


The door creaked open, and it managed to sound guilty. Yosuke had hardly dropped his bag on the floor that morning before he had hastily excused himself and run out to make sure that Maya-san and Pearl-chan were alright. And then, as soon as he'd set foot in the hospital, they had put him immediately to work on community service. He wasn't supposed to start that until Saturday, but it turned out that there was a need for all hands on deck at the moment.

By the time he got back from that, it was nearly dark. He hadn't even known where to call, either. He'd forgotten to take down her number before he left. Yosuke closed the door quietly, trying to think of something to say in his own defense before he called attention to himself, but he ruined it by sneezing loudly.

HAKU!

...Crap.

Comments

[calm_tempest]

He could blame the squeakiness on the sore throat all he liked; Retsu would know better. Though at least she'd play along, if he thought it would preserve some dignity.

"Indeed. I knew this when I brought her into the apartment." There was nothing wrong with a chair having a ghost in it. Vivian was perfectly harmless. She was of sweet temperament, and was confined to the chair, besides.

She pulled him up, and there was no indication that she was bothered by the rough texture or the sweat on his hand. Because she wasn't. Being a doctor among shinigami, those things were hardly uncommon. There was nothing he could do that would make her regret her decision to look after him.

She guided him back in the direction of the couch. "She is unable to leave the chair, and will bring no harm to you. I would not allow her to remain, were she dangerous."

[inthejunk]

Yosuke continued to stare as he let Unohana-san lead him back over the couch. When they reached it, he sank back onto it gratefully, and wrapped his arms around himself again.

"This kind of thing is really weird for me." He confessed. "No one would keep a ghost on purpose where I came from. At least not in a chair. Spirits have their own houses there, you know? And they're usually really quiet."

He leaned back against the corner of the sofa and pulled his knees up again. Since that not only helped everything in his stomach stay where it was supposed to but also put his pants right in his face, he tried to subtly brush his nose against them. It was running, but he didn't want to blow it in front of her any more than he wanted to be sick while she was watching.

[calm_tempest]

She subtly pushed a kleenex box over in his direction. All the minute movements he made? She noticed them. Reading body language was, for her, nearly as easy as listening to speech. But she would draw no more attention to his illness unless he started suffering more severely.

"Many things are strange, here. A spirit inhabiting an object is rather a rare occurrence where I am from." A calm smile. "Though I spend time with spirits as a matter of course, many of them quite lively."

She would not hide what she was from him, if he asked. Though she recognized she may have to smooth things over. There were so many misunderstandings among humans about the duty of shinigami.

[inthejunk]

"Time with spirits?" Yosuke shifted in his seat, still feeling sick and uncomfortable. He didn't reach for the tissues, though his eyes landed on them briefly and took in their location for later.

He swallowed, trying to deal with the mucus that was draining into his throat as unintrusively as possible instead, but it made his stomach lurch again in warning. He pulled his knees even closer, pressing them against his ribs and stomach, and tried to distract them both with a change of subject.

He'd noticed the close scrutiny, though he supposed it was warranted in the situation. He'd be curious in her shoes, too. In fact, he was curious anyway. "Is that a metaphor? I'm not very good at metaphors. Or do you mean that you're the kind of healer that uses light and all that...um. You know, an old style healer?"