[Quietly, the door clicks open, and there's the trademark shuffle of Chikusa's footsteps as he goes inside. It clicks shut again, and then there's silence.]
[If Mukuro doesn't bother to look up, that's fine. Chikusa speaks after a moment.]
Maestro.... Is this good enough...?
[In his arms is a couple of bulging grocery bags, their contents able to be discerned with a bit of staring. Ice cream cartons, nuts, bottles of various syrups, caramel, various fruits... Even more things that aren't as easy to see. It'd been the most he'd ever spent, whether as Ciro or his own self, but it's worth it if it means Mukuro's forgiveness.]
[Even now, although it doesn't show easily on his face save for the way his chin is tilted down, he's horrified at what he did. While he wouldn't say he's never thought of wrapping his fingers around Mukuro's throat- hormones are his excuse- to actually do it makes him feel ill. He'd never raise a hand to the person he's devoted his entire self to. And yet...]
no subject
[If Mukuro doesn't bother to look up, that's fine. Chikusa speaks after a moment.]
Maestro.... Is this good enough...?
[In his arms is a couple of bulging grocery bags, their contents able to be discerned with a bit of staring. Ice cream cartons, nuts, bottles of various syrups, caramel, various fruits... Even more things that aren't as easy to see. It'd been the most he'd ever spent, whether as Ciro or his own self, but it's worth it if it means Mukuro's forgiveness.]
[Even now, although it doesn't show easily on his face save for the way his chin is tilted down, he's horrified at what he did. While he wouldn't say he's never thought of wrapping his fingers around Mukuro's throat- hormones are his excuse- to actually do it makes him feel ill. He'd never raise a hand to the person he's devoted his entire self to. And yet...]