☆ Getting them something they need before they ask for it. (Resh'a)
It was a peaceful, lazy late afternoon when Resh’a found himself in the doorway of Cyril’s office. It was not wholly uncommon for the sailor to be quiet for lengths at a time, particularly when at sea on his vaguely-defined ventures, but to hear nothing from him at all was unsettling in its own way. And so, the good-natured Keeper had decided to take it upon himself to check in on his friend.
Perhaps the most obvious consequence of Resh’a’s unannounced arrival was that Cyril was wholly unprepared to greet him. The Seeker was slumped down in his chair, heels propped up on his desk, hair mussed and jacket rumpled.
How long had the pirate been sitting there? Was he asleep? His one eye was closed, chin tucked comfortably against the scarf he wore about his neck. His head had begun to loll gently off to one side, halted only by the downy cushioning of the armchair.
Try valiantly as Resh’a might to be quiet, the sound of his footsteps against the wood floor seemed to be enough to rouse Cyril from his half-slumber. The sailor’s one eye opened, blinking blearily before gradually focusing on the company he now found himself in. The Seeker laced his gloved fingers together and stretched his hands out before him, rolling his neck from one side to another to free it from the tension such horrible posture filled it with.
He was calm but still quick to collect himself, uncrossing his ankles and resituating himself in his chair in a manner perhaps a bit more appropriate, feet on the floor, back straight, head up.
“Ah, please excuse me, I fear I must have dozed off…”
Resh’a simply smiled and shook his head, meandering closer to the desk. The Keeper set down a plate, wrapped in a linen kerchief, and began to undo the knot in the fabric. Tucked inside was a delicious looking assortment of fruit, meat, bread, and cheese.
“Hm?”
The pirate glanced curiously at the food, subconsciously pressing one hand to his stomach as he very suddenly was reminded of how hungry he was.
“May I inquire as to the occasion?”
Resh’a was already pushing the laden plate towards Cyril, looking at him expectantly.
“The occasion, my friend, is that you likely cannot even remember the last time you ate properly.”
Acts of Affection [ CLOSED ] || Thank you for the ask!
