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[ic] i'm outta bullets so fuck it, i use my knife
Kansas' mind had been swirling ever since the afternoon he had spent with Savina Marino, even faster after his encounter with Naniko. Having finally confronted his leader about the incident that had spun their lives off course, he no longer felt so weighed down. The consequences of what he, Lucifer, and Naniko had done weren't gone, but he'd tackled them. It wasn't like Kansas to do that - he often left things on the burner hoping they would cook up nicely, only to have them boil over. Maybe now he and Naniko could return to just being siblings, the best of friends, like it was supposed to be.
He could allow himself to think full-time about Savina. He couldn't wash the image of her sweet face from his mind; it kept him awake sometimes. The suddenness of meeting her made everything perfect. He'd been waiting until he saw her again with more excitement than he thought he could ever feel. No one had ever liked him like this, with no restraints or controversy. It was all right.
Kansas carried with him not only his worn sachel, but a small box that he'd painted with some of the leftover blue paint he'd been using on his room. It was for her. He hoped she would like it - he played the scene of her joyful acceptance of the gift over and over again, which was probably a bad idea. Kansas hated disappointment. He was just outside the house when a long howl pricked his ears, a call for him. The voice was familiar, but it had an edge to it that he didn't like.
The male jogged nimbly toward the lake, careful with the present in his hands. He found her at the beach, seated carefully. His initial smile of elation faded when he realized there was indeed something off about her. What was wrong? Bad memories? Kansas then began to wonder if she had somehow found out about his drinking and the unfortunate result of this, and his chest tightened. S-Savina?