▹ @subspacer
The knock on his door is sudden, and he reacts much too slow for someone his age. Kiritsugu let out a pained breath that was meant to be something more; he’s much too exhausted for that. Admittedly, his reasons for that are much more mundane than usual - he’d spent far longer than necessary re-arranging the little hovel he now called home, and had hurt himself as a result. As such, though he had the means to cook, his body wouldn’t allow it; so, delivery it was.
Eventually, he made his way to the door, stopping briefly to nurse his ailing self. The food he’d ordered was simple - the only menu he had on hand was one for a Chinese restaurant down in another district - but it would likely taste all the sweeter after the work he had done today.
“Sorry I took so long answering the door. I hope this is enough of a tip.” He hands her a bill, hoping that a little extra would be sufficient - and she’s brought multiple bags. Wonderful. They gave him too much.
