WARM, warm, something rare, something oh so rare when it did not come from Aizen–it had always been cold in Kanto, freezing, chilly, enough to certainly chill to the bone. It was–nice, oh so nice, and rather delicious smelling as well! Was that what a–err…–[H O M E] would smell like, be like? Full of smiles, of warmth, of readily cooked food, and–an actual place to come to.
HE felt as if he should have asked to help, not that he would have been any, he never could amount to anything–and his hands were grimy, dirty, disgusting–but still. Maybe he should have asked, but Sorin knew what he was doing, while Crimson would have struggled, Sorin was far more mastered in such an impressive task–impressive to him, of course–so there no need to bother.
BESIDES, there was no way Aizen would let him near such a creature, metallic, somewhat noisy with the occasional (pop!) (crackle!) (swish-swoosh!)
Dangerous, Aizen would have said dangerous, growled it out, but he was at least trying to be [S O M E W H A T] polite–this one was being nice to his boy.
UNDER normal circumstances, Aizen would have growled, snarled, protested, but–it was not moving, and Crimson was not nearing, and that made all the difference. Besides, his boy was calming, even if it was only by notes and slights, he still was, and that was–utterly, utterly, [S U R P R I S I N G.]
“H-HOW d-do you kn-know?” It still looked like–liquid, bubbling, steaming, and a rather weird shade of–brown-ish yellow. It looked no different than when Sorin started, well except for a few things really, but then again what did he knew? He knew nothing beyond–beyond much really.
“U-UH,” an awkward shuffle, and the lightest red colored pale cheeks. “Y-you’re-er wel-welcome Sor-in,” he muttered meekly, the tiniest–[S H Y E S T]–smile marking his expression, not that it could be seen with his tattered scarf and all.
A nice smell, brilliant, nothing he ever smelt before really, it was–warming. “Ai-Aizen pr-probably w-will,” and so would he, but he did not want to make any empty promises, he could not eat a lot after all.
“–A-AND, I w-will t-too,” but he did anyway, a nice gesture, brilliant really, and so Crimson would try eating–just a bit more than he normally would–[which was not a lot.]
THUS, with a snout stabilizing his movements, Aizen helped him over to the table, a round thing, brown colored–it was…something to see wood…not covered in frost and ice and everything of the kind.
“TH-THANK you,” yet Crimson stood there, awkwardly, he was supposed sit right? –So he did.
