קгєץ 🕷 [ⲛⲁⲅⳙⲏⳕⲛⲁ]

Like A Puppet On A String

Lucky.

Kiba-kun had already flagged down a busboy for her.

She cast him a grateful smile, and received a triumphant grin and two thumbs up in return.

Hinata dumped her broken wares in the empty basin the busboy held out to her, thanking the young man for the change of apron he handed to her from over his shoulder, then made her way to the booth by the window, tying the apron as she moved.

Her stomach fluttered as she neared the veteran.

Her clipped steps clicking in time with the wild thumping in her chest.

She didn't have the time, nor the desire to examine the dual sensations.

She sniffled delicately as she came to a stop at his table, brow furrowing.

Maybe the kitchen heat was getting to her but she could swear she smelt the subtle scent of her strawberry and cream soap emanating from him.

She dismissed the notion almost as fast as it entered her mind. She'd made that soap herself, there wasn't another like it.

Not to mention, Naruto Uzumaki came across as a very...manly man, and although she knew men were not a monolith by any stretch, that each man defined what it meant to be a man differently, she was under the impression that his more...overt masculinity wouldn't allow for fruity, feminine scents.

One of the air vents were probably blowing her own fragrance back at her, or maybe she'd used more soap than she thought she had this morning.

"Good afternoon, Uzumaki-san," she murmured with quiet cheer, politely adding, "it's nice to see you here again."

He straightened a bit, uncoiling from his lounge to a more attentive position.

"Afternoon, Hinata," he returned, articulating her name in a way that brought the butterflies back to her tummy, "couldn't help but to come back. Found something sweeter than the mochi last time, 'ttebayo."

She blinked, wondering if she was reading his words correctly.

A charming smile spread across his lips, sending a thrill through her pulse.

She was.

The not so subtle flirting left her cheeks redder than the ketchup bottle on his table.

His smile dipped abruptly as his eyes snapped over her shoulder, baby blues moving slowly from right to left, tracking something behind her.

She twisted to look, wondering what had his attention.

She saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Patrons, a few waitresses and Bakuto weaving through tables towards the exit.

"Wild afternoon, hm?"

She whipped back around, a bit startled to find herself once again the sole recipient of his all consuming gaze.

He lifted his chin in the direction of the mess being swept up by a busboy.

She glanced behind her again, then conceded, "yes, I suppose so."

"Guy giving you trouble?" he asked casually, sitting back in the booth, though his eyes seemed a little less...warm.

"Oh, no, not at all," she refuted, "it was an accident, he didn't mean to."

A short, but pregnant pause slipped between them before he spoke again.

"You know him well?" he asked, head tilting in a way that sent her nerves tingling, "he grabbed on you like he knew you."