Of course he'd be here, and of course they'd remember. How long has it been... Sigma supposes it doesn't matter; what matters is that the date is ingrained in their mind, and that he's here. He's their responsibility in the same way every guest is, and they set a small box down before him. "Happy birthday," they say, but there's a flatness to their tone—something tired and heavy. (Inside the box is a ruby sphere, clear except for enough natural imperfection to let it be known that it's real.)
It’s a surprisingly kind gesture.
The time that’s passed since even Shibusawa himself last celebrated the birthday is…well, it must be years at the very least. And it goes without saying that he hadn’t spoken to Sigma in that time. He didn’t expect them to remember, expect them to realize why he’s sitting at the bar in the casino tonight, of all nights. It shouldn’t be special.
But Sigma deserves some credit for still managing to act in unexpected ways.
Shibusawa stares at the box, clearly dumbfounded for a moment, before carefully starting to unwrap it. He wasn’t sure what to assume it could contain, (some kind of joke gift?) but he didn’t think it would be something valuable, something beautiful.
He actually smiles when he sees the sphere—a real smile, not one of his usual attempts. It’s truly warm, genuinely happy; still small, still wan, but there’s a joy in his face as he holds it up to the light with one hand, turning it carefully, inspecting it, before tearing his attention away to look back at Sigma.
“Thank you,” he says. And he means it.
