[janus loves growing things. more than they love killing things, to be honest. and they don't really love killing things, it's just-- necessary. and require skill, which they rather enjoy having, admittedly. they send rafa a confirmation, and it's not too much time at all before they're at the farm on a lovely evening. looking at the tidy rows of produce as they pass them by, pausing to reach out and touch the low-hanging frond of a tree. it doesn't bear any fruit, and it takes janus just a moment, sniffing, running their fingers over the bark, to determine that it's for the insect-repellant properties.
a few more long steps, and they blend out of the dark. black clothes and a sword strapped over their back, which will probably seem a little unnecessarily aggressive for an oreo date until they explain the nature of said weapon. it's fine.
knock knock. (a little self-consciously, in the interim, they move their head to the left of the door's peephole and ruffle their fingers through their hair. they've had eight years of practicing looking kissable, but it still doesn't feel like the work is done.)]
→ action;
a few more long steps, and they blend out of the dark. black clothes and a sword strapped over their back, which will probably seem a little unnecessarily aggressive for an oreo date until they explain the nature of said weapon. it's fine.
knock knock. (a little self-consciously, in the interim, they move their head to the left of the door's peephole and ruffle their fingers through their hair. they've had eight years of practicing looking kissable, but it still doesn't feel like the work is done.)]