"It's cold outside" .... (instead of a blanket.. maybe his bomber jacket she made for him;) )
Send me “It’s cold outside” for my muses reaction to your muse wrapping mine in a blanket
Kaibara had always held an immense sense of appreciation for when the seasons changed.
There was always a thrill of excitement in her when the chill in the air became more than just the occasional threatening gust of wind. She loved to be outside when the cold smacked people in the face, announcing fall’s presence with a fanfare of moans and groans from those caught under-prepared, or those already lamenting the passing of the warmer months. It made her smile when her hair was whipped around and her shoulders involuntarily hunched against the icy whisper at her neck and ears.
Unfortunately, this love of the cold tended to make her rather careless with her layering. Oftentimes, unless she was warned before she left the house, she will have neglected to don sufficient articles of winter armor — here a pair of gloves, there a hat or a scarf, and a lot of times even a thick enough coat could be forgotten in favor of embracing the chill.
She knew that she really had no reason to gripe about her own carelessness, but after a good long trek spent ‘embracing the chill’, the wind was pushing right past her sweater, piercing through her shirt and t-shirt and straight to her skin. Instead of offering a pleasant, bracing sensation, now it was only making her arms numb.
A weight alighted on her shoulders, encasing her arms and torso. It startled her at first, but it didn’t burden her — in fact, it was shielding her upper body from the cold entirely, and surrounded her with a lingering warmth. Her first instinct was to glance down at it, rather than its owner. She started upon recognizing the jacket as her own handiwork, and, more prominently, the decorative patch on the left side. The initials “K.O.” decorated the patch, framed in the logo of the Ootori Group.
“Its cold outside.”
Nose scrunched, Kaibara turned to shoot an indignant look at her rescuer, even as she shifted her hands to pull the jacket closed at her front. “Thank you for the wonderful observation, Honey Badger.” her retort was rather weak, and the effect was ruined by the smile growing on her lips as she fingered the fleece at the jacket’s collar.
"You’ve been wearing it after all," the remark followed a pause spent basking in the implications of the coat resting on her shoulders. Her cheeks flushed with pleasure; it never failed that she was flooded with a warm sort of satisfaction when she knew her gifts were appreciated. "I’m glad."
