Said Freeshooter had been hoping to make the best of the dramatic change in weather by staying indoors and polishing his recently-returned guns. He could fuss over the weapons like some housewives fussed over their fine china, carefully inspecting each niche and cranny for areas in dire need of polish.
That idea was, of course, lost to the wind with the rude awakening from one almost-adopted daughter named Yotsuba Koiwai.
Sitting up blearily in bed next to an equally-frazzled Demyx, Xigbar stared at the little girl as if expecting her to suddenly turn into a midget singing about the misfortunes of eating stolen chocolate. When that didn't happen, he lifted one hand and rubbed at his face wearily.
"Kid, it's, like, 8 AM," he groaned. "C'mon, can't we get some more sleep?"
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That idea was, of course, lost to the wind with the rude awakening from one almost-adopted daughter named Yotsuba Koiwai.
Sitting up blearily in bed next to an equally-frazzled Demyx, Xigbar stared at the little girl as if expecting her to suddenly turn into a midget singing about the misfortunes of eating stolen chocolate. When that didn't happen, he lifted one hand and rubbed at his face wearily.
"Kid, it's, like, 8 AM," he groaned. "C'mon, can't we get some more sleep?"