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Itaru was a mess.
Izumi watched as another piece of chicken, previously stuck in his hair, fell uselessly to the ground, followed shortly by the dripping sauce. From head to toe, he was covered in what was previously known as their dinner, the honey flavored curry being an unusually stickier substance, and clinging stubbornly to Itaru's hair, face, white-collared shirt, and suit pants.
An incident occurred some fifteen minutes ago, one that involved Kamekichi, some super glue, an innocent passerby (Itaru), and the pot she left on the stove for their dinner that night. None were forthcoming with their explanations for some reason, because the perpetrators suddenly busied themselves with cleaning, even as they suddenly refused to meet her gaze, which is why she was stuck helping Itaru who appeared to have taken a shower with her latest curry creation.
She could sense him fuming, even as he remained compliant under her touch, and as she continued to sit beside him, wiping away every inch of his face with a wet cloth. Her heart was slowly dying, however, at every piece of meat and sauce being thrown away.
Even while helping him clean, however, Izumi couldn't help but marvel at his pretty face and clear skin.
He was pretty, far too pretty for his own good. It was a face that could con so many people, and worked to his advantage in so many ways. She wondered badly what it was like to live with a face like his, to be wearing it for one day.
Regardless, she was so focused inside her own thoughts, Izumi didn't realize the close proximity of their faces, or the way Itaru's mouth was suddenly curving up in a slow smile.
He lifted his eyebrows innocently. "Enjoying the view?"
Izumi blinked once out of her concentration, twice again to see Itaru's cheeky expression, before blushing hotly, pushing herself away, and standing up.
Nevermind. He can do this himself.
Dropping the cloth between his legs, she made a hasty retreat under the pretense to see what the rest were doing with the mess inside.