"Hana! I have something for you." the climatologist calls happily before handing her a shoe box. "Squeaky shoes! They squeak when you walk and they light up different colours, and they're pink! Perfect for when people have a hangover and you want to make it worse. Happy November!"
There are few people on base as kind-hearted as Mei. Nobody’s really openly, brutally mean or anything, but hardly any of them are the kind of above and beyond gentle that she’s come to associate with the climatologist. Hana’s broken Mandarin is about all she can offer her in an attempt to communicate, because she knows just as much as anybody else how isolating it can be to be the only one around who speaks your mother tongue. Korean feels like home to her. It reminds her of better days. Vaguely, she wonders if the girl who also lost her team feels the same.And then there are moments like these where Mei is pure and wholesome and any past trauma seems so far forgotten that she lets her own go, just for a second. Because… squeaky shoes.Squeaky shoes.Squeaky shoes.Hana blinks once, twice, and bursts into a laugh that reminds her just how hollow chests are, bending a little at the waist as she accepts the shoe box. “Xièxiè, Mei! These are awesome! I can’t wait to torment a few people. Well… Kauboi, mostly. I can’t wait to torment Kauboi. Where on Earth did you get these?”