The sound of his name wasn't what gets his attention - rather, it's the feeling of tallness behind him. It makes him bristle, shoulders drawn up to his earlobes as he does his best to turn his head just enough to see what's behind him without losing sight of what's in front. When he sees who it is--
"Shh!" He hisses, gently jabbing an elbow into Mako's gut before refocusing on what's in front of him.
"Aa, thanks again, Yui!" an unseen voice calls over the shuttering of a sliding door. The view is an interior, lit brightly, but warmly. It's a little hazy with steam, and the wall is lined with cupboards and a stove. A kitchen, obviously. "Have a good night!"
"Have a good night!" A woman's voice echoes. Her back is to them as she hefts a heavy soup pot off a burner and into the sink basin. Blonde hair is tied back in a kerchief, an apron tied around her waist, sleeves rolled up for the business of a whole lot of cooking. There's a fuzzy, curled tail poking in and out of view as a dog paces around the room.
Manabu continues to gawk in awed silence as the back of this woman proceeds to rinse out her dishes, the dimmest of reflections of her face just barely discernable in the window of the night sky in front of her.
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The sound of his name wasn't what gets his attention - rather, it's the feeling of tallness behind him. It makes him bristle, shoulders drawn up to his earlobes as he does his best to turn his head just enough to see what's behind him without losing sight of what's in front. When he sees who it is--
"Shh!" He hisses, gently jabbing an elbow into Mako's gut before refocusing on what's in front of him.
"Aa, thanks again, Yui!" an unseen voice calls over the shuttering of a sliding door. The view is an interior, lit brightly, but warmly. It's a little hazy with steam, and the wall is lined with cupboards and a stove. A kitchen, obviously. "Have a good night!"
"Have a good night!" A woman's voice echoes. Her back is to them as she hefts a heavy soup pot off a burner and into the sink basin. Blonde hair is tied back in a kerchief, an apron tied around her waist, sleeves rolled up for the business of a whole lot of cooking. There's a fuzzy, curled tail poking in and out of view as a dog paces around the room.
Manabu continues to gawk in awed silence as the back of this woman proceeds to rinse out her dishes, the dimmest of reflections of her face just barely discernable in the window of the night sky in front of her.