A little more than an hour later, Seto had cleaned up and put on one of his nicer suits, opting for white rather than anything more formal. His black tie hung over his shoulders as he ran a comb through hair that was growing a little too long. He made a point to try to remember scheduling a haircut, but wondered when he could possibly fit it in.
A knock on the door frame of the master bath made Seto flinch, which was followed by the sound of childish laughter.
"Did I startle you, bro?" Mokuba asked, peeking his head around the corner.
"I suppose so," Seto agreed, putting away the comb.
Mokuba whistled. "You look spiffy."
"Do you need something?" Seto asked, glancing at his watch. He needed to leave soon.
"I was going to ask if you had time to practice with me a bit. I finished my homework."
"You're all caught up on your late work?"
"Yes sir," Mokuba saluted. "But it looks like you're going out."
"No. I just wanted to make sure my suit still fits," Seto claimed as his skilled fingers fastened his tie with an eldredge knot.
"You're wearing cologne. I call BS."
"It's called sarcasm. I don't have the time to practice tonight. Tomorrow's the weekend. I'll make time then."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
"Good." Mokuba grinned slyly. "Are you going on a date?"
"It's not a date," he insisted.
"Whoa, defensive!" Mokuba claimed as he held up his hands. "So who are you going on this 'not date' with? Is it the woman from your work with the long black hair? I always forget her name."
"Her name is Vivian, and no. I can't date my employees."
"Why does that matter? I thought you said this wasn't a date," Mokuba said.
Seto turned away from the mirror and flashed Mokuba a dark glare.
Mokuba uttered the tiniest 'eep' before dashing out of the room and clomping down the stairs.
When Seto was certain he was finished getting ready for his 'not date', he clicked the lights off and strode down to the kitchen. He found Noa struggling to microwave a bowl of canned soup and Mokuba settling in at the table, where he had been arranging his cards into some sort of category system.
"I'm going out for the evening," Seto announced to both his siblings. "I trust you can find a way to take care of yourselves in the meantime."
Mokuba nodded from the table without looking up from his cards, but Noa said nothing as he carefully attempted to carry his bowl from the microwave to the table, leaning on one crutch with every step.
"Mokuba," Seto called.
"Yeah?" he answered after a pause, still without looking up.
Noa winced as hot broth splashed over his fingers, but he continued his slow trek after only the slightest pause.
"Mokuba," Seto repeated.
The boy finally looked up, allowing Seto to gesture to Noa and his struggle.
Mokuba shrugged, looking down at his cards again.
Seto did not move his gaze from Mokuba's face.
After a moment and three of Noa's agonizingly small steps later Mokuba seemed to notice Seto's firm stance and glare.
"Oh," he mouthed. He put down the cards in his hand and got up from the table. "Let me help you, Noa."
"I've got it," Noa claimed.
Mokuba reached to take the bowl anyway.
Noa jerked his elbow out, forcing Mokuba away, but hot broth splashed onto the back of Noa's hand. Out of reflex, he dropped the bowl to nurse his hand, spilling the hot soup across the floor.
"Watch it!" Noa cried, pushing Mokuba.
"Don't push me! I was trying to help you!"
"I can do it myself!"
"The trail of broth," Seto droned, "from the microwave to where you're standing would suggest otherwise."
"I didn't ask you!" Noa cried. "Mokuba, what if I wasn't wearing my slipper and spilled on my bare foot? I could have fallen and hurt myself worse."
"Noa," Seto said, "what if you had just let him take the bowl in the first place?"
Noa spun around to glare at his twin. "Nobody asked you."
"I tried to tell him to help you. You're the one who spilled. Do I have to stay and babysit you two? Because I oughtn't need to."
Mokuba, who had already ran for the mop from the pantry, peered up at Seto.
"No, go out on your date."
"A date? That's why you're not entertaining Mokuba tonight?" Noa demanded.
"Entertaining him?" Seto repeated.
"Seto," Mokuba whispered. "Don't."
He glanced down at Mokuba, who was busy picking noodles off the floor while Noa forced his way around him to the table.
"Are you under the impression that my job is to entertain him? To keep him from bothering you?"
Noa eased himself into a seat at the table, but remained silent.
"But of course, your majesty," Seto refused to let up. "The value of this insolent child can only be measured by how little he disrupts your life, and how well he does his chores. Tell me, your greatness, what shall his punishment be?"
"Shut up, Seto," Noa spat. "No one is interested in your dramatics."
"You're just like Father. He never cared either."
Noa spun around in his chair and shot a glare at Seto, his mouth open as though he were ready with a comeback, but too angry to let it loose.
"Seto," Mokuba whispered. "That's enough. Please don't fight."
Seto stared down at Mokuba, whose pleading eyes peered back at him. The words stilled him, though his anger burned raw.
Without an explanation, Seto twisted around and stalked off, slamming the still-open microwave door on his way to the hall that led to the garage.
"Seto, wait!" Mokuba called, tramping after him. "When will you be home?"
"Don't wait up," he said with an effort to soften his tone. "Try to find something you can make for dinner."
"Yeah. Sure. I could… I could make something for him and me."
"If you feel like bothering. But he doesn't deserve it."
He closed the garage door behind himself.