Palindrome
Title: Death the Kid is a poet? Liz, kind of, uh, gets it?
Word Count: 311
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater.
"Kid!"
Death the Kid looked up from his book to see Liz standing in front of him. He eyed her for a second to assimilate the angry look upon her face and then he looked back down at his book.
"Earth to Kid?!"
His eyebrows slanted in frustration as he peered up and noticed her hat was sideways. He dropped the book and reached up to touch her face. Her eyes widened in surprise and her lips parted. He deftly shifted her hat back into place and then leaned back when he was satisfied.
He nodded once to himself, content. "Did you need something?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah-" She reached around into her back pocket pulled out a crinkled piece of paper that had Kid wrinkling his nose in disgust.
"Patty said she asked to you for help for her school work."
"That is accurate."
"Then what is this?" She unraveled it and held it up to his face.
"You wrinkled my perfect poem."
"This is not a -"
"My perfect poem!" He reached for it and started to smooth it against his pant leg frantically.
"That is not a poem."
"It is perfection. It was perfection," he amended with a glare at the tall girl.
"It has one word on it."
"The most symmetric, perfect word there is."
"Racecar?!" She yelled in indignation. "You expect Patty to get a good grade with this?"
"Racecar is absolutely perfect. It is as it is backwards and frontwards and-"
Liz backed out of the room as he mumbled and ranted to himself. She closed the doors and leaned against them in exasperation. She traced the word racecar in the air and then backwards. She tilted her head and then smiled in understanding.
He was still ridiculous and she still had to help her sister, but at least she understood him better.