Offering
Dawn's light glows tenderly as Mako walks with a limp to the alleyway where he and Bolin slept in the previous night, his brother's face calm as the summer sky. He intends to return without a sound, a hundred yuans safely in his pocket, enough for three square meals for a few weeks. Bruises pepper the space between his legs, as well as his neck, discreetly hidden under his trusty red scarf.
Bolin stirs, rising with a groggy yawn and smiling up at Mako, a weak but sincere gesture. The older reveals the fruits of his labor, his brother's eyes widening like plates.
"What did you do to get this?"
"I cleaned an old lady's house."
A lie, naturally. They stand, Mako carefully adjusting his coverings, chattering animatedly at what they wanted to order.
