[She notes his dress and appearance. The slovenly attire and backward shirt are... well, she did surprise him at home, she supposes. The tension in his body as soon as he sees her...
Nothing. It's nothing.
For her part, she's dressed meticulously, but that's... sort of always been true of her, let's face it.]
It seemed appropriate to celebrate the occasion.
[She thrusts the cake forward into his hands, and he might pick up on a faint hint of the smell of lemon coming from it It's not large or unwieldy, but it is elaborately decorated, something summery and floral- in no world is Azula going to give anybody a cake that's less than perfect, especially when she can just get a baker to do the hard work for her. It almost feels normal, that distribution of labor.
She doesn't even particularly like cake. It's the principle of the thing.
After the cake is in his hands, she brushes past him and steps inside the door as if she'd been invited. Behind her, in front of the door, is a large box. She doesn't mention or draw attention to it.]
no subject
Nothing. It's nothing.
For her part, she's dressed meticulously, but that's... sort of always been true of her, let's face it.]
It seemed appropriate to celebrate the occasion.
[She thrusts the cake forward into his hands, and he might pick up on a faint hint of the smell of lemon coming from it It's not large or unwieldy, but it is elaborately decorated, something summery and floral- in no world is Azula going to give anybody a cake that's less than perfect, especially when she can just get a baker to do the hard work for her. It almost feels normal, that distribution of labor.
She doesn't even particularly like cake. It's the principle of the thing.
After the cake is in his hands, she brushes past him and steps inside the door as if she'd been invited. Behind her, in front of the door, is a large box. She doesn't mention or draw attention to it.]