(ʀᴇ)ᴀᴡᴀᴋᴇɴɪɴɢ [ᴏᴘᴇɴ]
ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ minute spent in the twee company of this one, it feels to be becoming only more difficult for him to care that he truly is here, being cared for. By Chiaki Nanami herself, needless to say, but also by those before her ─ however manner in number. To begin with, somebody must have known that there was some semblance of life within him still, hence his being here in some resthouse rather than in the ground; he’d remained unconscious for most of his care thus far, so to be awake for all this now…
Solitude might suit his sort well enough, but nor is he without gratitude. At the very least, he has to thank her upon her triumphant return, a change of clothes in hand, for her concern.
He turns away from her then, so that he might have some privacy as he pulls gown off and tunic on. For one without any name, let alone anything more— intimate, perhaps, the prospect of receiving a by-name of sorts - so soon into an acquaintanceship, at that - is a strange one. Not an unwelcome one, however: it occurs to him as much as to her that he cannot go without any name whatsoever until his returns to him. So, once more, he’ll humour the girl.
“‘Mr Grimm’, you say. Hm. It is as good a name as any.” There’s a moment’s silence as the contemplative fellow pulls fussily at the tunic’s loose arms, each in turn. It’s no better a fit than the nightgown, really, and some breeches and footwear would have done nicely too. At the same time, there can be something said here about beggars not being choosers, but what he has will suffice for a simple wander. Once satisfied (or as much as he will be ─ a mental note is made to inquire about his own wear later, certain as he is that he couldn’t have turned up in only his braies), he turns back towards his company— and seeing her swaddled in the blankets for the first time only now, he can only smile.
Not in a dry, barely amused manner, but actually smile, however much of a ghost it is. What queer company they make for another.
"…No, I rather fancy it. I fear your…’authors' are lost on me,” (they are after his time, alas) “but it sounds rather pleasant on the tongue nevertheless.” He frets one last time with his wear before announcing plainly, “You may look now ─ I am modest once more.”
Now that he was fully dressed, Nanami led him out of the room and into the courtyard. She took him through the window, of course (without bothering to explain she was only doing so because the patient was not technically supposed to leave his room yet) and found a shady spot beneath a secluded oak.
Nanami was unsure what to do from here. Her intention had been to get the patient some fresh air, but...now that they were outside, she was at a loss.
Nanami was...bad at socializing. And although it was somewhat comforting that the patient was not a chatterbox, she also wondered whether or not he found her boring. She had never worried about something as trivial as being boring when she was a program; it seemed almost ridiculous to her now.
To make matters worse, Nanami felt her eyelids getting heavy. It seemed narcolepsy was a carry-over from her virtual life to this one. She jolted herself awake when she felt her head lolling against the tree behind them, and turned to address the patient directly.
"Ah...Do you...enjoy the outdoors, Mister...?"
And with that, Nanami's head promptly flopped onto his shoulder as she fell asleep.
