Riku Harada – after a few good hours of pacing – had finally made her decision. While the kaitou slept, she'd decided to let him stay until the storm was over, until he was well again. Because upon closer inspection, he didn't look healthy, and how could she turn him away? Sure, she didn't like him, but that was just cruel. Feathers were burnt off of his wings, and no matter how many blankets fell over his lithe form, still he shivered. With this came more difficulty for her, as she had to set aside the maternal instinct to sit next to him and hold his hand, or do something to comfort him. This was Dark Mousy, after all, and she wouldn't want to risk him getting the wrong idea.
So she simply walked to the sliding glass door and stared out, watching as the waters churned, unsure as a maiden's heart. Lightning streaked against a dark grey sky, and rain fell down in never ending torrents; it almost seemed as if the heavens were trying to wash filth from the Earth. What filth? She wondered, then looked to Dark. Surely not….no. It's only me. Agh, I'm acting like Risa again…She shook her head clear and took to pacing again, her eyes shifting like a pendulum: Water, ground, Dark. Water, ground, Dark. And he shifted, coughing, shaking, like always. It was obvious the storm had made him sick, and she could no longer help herself. Sighing inwardly, she sat at the edge of the bed and held his hand, rewetting the rag she had placed on his forehead earlier to calm his fever. Her fingers traveled down his face, his skin smooth. His eyes cracked open, and she nearly gasped. He gave an almost crooked grin. "What is it?" She asked in annoyance.
"Your touch feels nice, Miss Riku"
A/N: Sorry it's so short! Nothing else would fit with this little scene…
