my skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel.

bornaleader:

By all means, he was doing in this aid of a friend, but he couldn’t help but hold back the grin that worked on his lips. Through his weary features, it showed that he was genuinely proud for having swayed her decision to rest and relax in her own ambiance. It was what he thought she needed the most now.

There was also that nagging thought at the back of his mind— he wanted to see the young heiress well before heading off.

“In a couple of hours, yes,” he remarked as he helped her up from her desk. That same haughty grin irreplaceable when he heard her comment. 

        As soon as she’s on her feet, Asami grabs her coat and turns off the lamp that sat neatly at the corner of her desk splaying shadows across the room. Then she pulls her keys from her pocket to lock up after they’ve both exited the office. When she feels the tumblers fall into place, a sense of relief washes over her. She’s actually going home to rest and get some much needed sleep.

        The factory is all but dead; the rest of the employees having gone home hours earlier. “You know,” she says, studying his features briefly as they walk. “You look like you could use some sleep yourself, General.”

       And it’s true, the lines of fatigue are visible in his face. If she’d looked in a mirror, she probably would have seen the same thing in her own features. Fatigue, weariness, too much weight upon thin shoulders.