your blood's as good an ink as any

I could take all that you love, I could be death from above

Home, Atlas resonates down their bond quietly, dark eyes watching Sunjata transform and move inside from his bedded down spot outside. Though he's more than welcome, perhaps his soul remembers being born in Halo, and relishes the cold freedom of the outdoors. Hotaru doesn't push, but her own gratitude flows through their bond at the heads up. She's on their balcony, fabric pooled in her lap where she is mending a few holes she'd noted in their collective clothes, but it's a project easily discarded in favor of welcoming her husband home.

As she's leaving the bedroom, the slam of a glass in the kitchen makes her jump, concern immediately rising and pale brows pinching. Her steps hurry a little more as she makes her way in, and though Sunjata is immediately visible she looks for Nate and doesn't find him. It prickles, some sort of trauma-based need to have them both at her side pulling beneath her skin. Chasing it away is no easy effort, but the dark cloud surrounding Sunjata's entire being is an adequate distraction this time.

"A little early for a drink, everything alright?" Hotaru slides around the counter, propping her hip there and watching him quietly. She'll remain there for now until she knows if he wants to be touched or not. It's a toss up when any of them are in these sorts of moods, and then he'd only feel guilty later on for shrugging her off.

HOTARU