Chapter Text
"It really can't be moved tomorrow?"
Anya's fingers linger on the dark green tie she's just finished tying around his neck, her inquiry filling the silence in the suite.
Damian sighs, "You know that nobody in the Chamber has any free time on their hands."
"So I'll get stuck here while you're busy dodging political traps." It was her turn to sigh. Taking a step back, she says, “Don’t eat anything they give you. This–” she hands him the bento box from the nightstand, “–is enough.”
Damian accepts the package, chuckling, “This is why they say I’m closed off as Father was.”
Anya bats her eyelashes innocently, “Not because you always seemed to ‘read their minds’?”
Wrong comment, she instantly thought, watching a dark shadow pass over his features. “I’ve told you before—you don’t have to go to any more of these meetings for me, Anya. I know you hear worse things from these people than the ones you share with me. I just—” he shifted his sight away from her, knuckles clenched tight, resembling much of himself way back in grade school, “—it’s just…”
“Hey, Sy-on Boy,” she takes a second to giggle. She hadn’t used that nickname for some years now. Even Damian shows surprise, with the way he returns his gaze on her. “Remember the dodgeball tournament, the surprise uniform inspection, and the time we played Old Maid for those macaroons?”
Anya reaches for his hand, “We protect each other. That’s what we always do. Right?" Her sweet expression then shifts into a playful one. "Keeping world peace is just a nice bonus."
He’s poised to retort, but no arguments come up. In the end, he hangs his head down, grumbling, “Are you sure reading body language is the only thing Forger-san taught you?”
“If you’re talking about unintended manipulation,” Anya stands on tiptoes to give him a goodbye peck on the cheek, “I got that all from my Mama.”