// closed starter for @knowhumility //
Things were quiet in the base today.
She was no regular here - her presence ebbed and flowed - but she had visited enough times since the recall to learn the names and faces of most.
Though, some, she needn’t learn at all.
Leaving from the employee’s kitchen had her momentarily pause in step, all to allow her heel to catch the door an inch before its closure. Instead, she guided it, allowing the latch to gently slip into place - a whisper few would notice above the usual filtering of environmental stimuli, lest one be so enamored by their own paranoia that they need observe each and every sensory detail to an exhaustive extent. She knew well this life produced such broken souls.
Her attempts at stealth were perhaps in vain however, for as she walked her boots met in audible rhythm with the tiled floor. She mocked herself internally, and almost smiled humorously at her own failed attempts at caution.
But she would not reconsider.
On so few occasions were it convenient to speak with the man whose name she was already familiar with. - The world she lived in permeated the circles of his family’s empire, and he carried their name even if he desired no longer to associate with the reason it was so infamous to her. A fibrous scar he could not disassociate from. It was for these reasons there was caution in her step; for these reasons she did not want witnesses upon the eve of their meet.
She set a cup upon the table at the Shimada’s left side. A hazy, verdant liquid, emanating a steam which carried with it the smell of bitter, leafy tones, reminiscent of green tea. She hoped it at best a peace offering to better placate the man’s opinion of her disturbing his peace.
“You’re the Shimada, aren’t you?”
Spoken softly at least. She knew how coarsely this man could offer his responses, and how cynical he’d grown of the world.