There it is - one of his favourite faces of Hinoka's. The monk has to stifle a giggle from rising - at the least, it's an easier feat to achieve bearing in mind the extra weathering on dear Hinoka's face. Being queen hasn't treated her well, it seems, and that comes as little shock: even now, although Azama believes her because she is not a liar, never has been and never will be, it's incredibly difficult to picture.
Hinoka, sat on Hoshido's throne...
Hellish wonders would never cease.
"Come now - perhaps I've learned some decorum in the years since we've parted." Well - since he and his Hinoka had, at any rate.
Either way though, the mischief in his grin betrays the thought.
Although the mirth is woefully shortlived,
for Azama has grievously erred.
Slowly, carefully, he sets himself on his knees, hands folded into his lap, and quite literally bows for forgiveness.
"I apologize, my lady. I did not mean to wound you, and it is clear this foolish notion has." On the other hand... it would seem, he thinks, there are embers yet left to be stoked. So, her fire hasn't completely gone out. That's good.
He peeks upward, tentative - would that he could dry her angry tears...
They don't suit her at all.
"You are stubborn as ever, I see." Truly, some things never change - for better or worse.
Azama straightens and starts to pick himself up.
All right. Enough moping for right this minute. At the least, if he's going to be responsible for her hurt and anger,
Azama needs it to be intentional.
He smiles again, gently, softly,
"Speaking of the ever lovely Lady Sakura,"
Hopefully Her Majesty Hinoka doesn't execute him on the spot before he can explain, but if she does, well! It will have been worth it. Hands clasp together.
"Has she introduced you to our son yet?"
