Title: Mixing Nationalities
Characters: Blues, Kalinka (Cossack, Rock, Roll)
Rating: G
Notes: My inner sap speaks. It's going back in its cage when I'm done. Written late for Valentine's and early for White Day (and Men's Day too, I suppose). I've effectively done my quota for all three, even though I don't celebrate two of them. Drabble-ish.

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He had gone to visit her late February. She was fourteen, and already looked different from her more innocent ages all the visits before. Humans grew, and she was a perfect example of their mortality, unlike all the elder scientists he had the unfortunate pleasure of knowing personally.

The visit was short; he was passing through on his way to Saint Petersburg, and Cossack and his daughter had invited him in for the night...mostly on Kalinka's insistence, but Cossack wasn't without his own insistence either.

He wanted to be gone by sunrise, for insurance of safety on their part, but Kalinka had made sure he didn't go away without burdening his already light load with something no bigger than the palm of his hand.

It was a small wooden bear with, what he believed to be, a fish caught in its mouth and a small, painted heart-shape against its left leg. "I carved it myself." Because he assumed she still was forbidden to work on machines until a proper age, and busied herself else how.

"I'd thought to make it a Valentine's gift, but...ahh, since today's the twenty-third!, I thought you... Well, today's Men's Day. And I don't care what you are, you deserve our thanks more than any veteran does!"

She had never sent him anything for either holiday before. He didn't quite understand the sentiment, but...

Today was March 13th, and Blues burst into Light's home with two grocery bags in arm. He stormed past a bewildered Rock and told a startled Roll, "Out," as he dropped those bags on the counter.

"But," she protested feebly, trying to process his abrupt cameo, her hands still in the soapy water, "my dishes-"

"I'll do them for you," he persisted with sharp annoyance. "Now out."

Both siblings were then efficiently shut outside the kitchen.

Because he really didn't want them seeing what he was doing. It was just too...embarrassing. Though he would leave a platter of whatever concoctions he managed to make properly, as an indirect apology for his rudeness.

...And maybe because he did care. Just an ounce. Not enough for words, he supposed, but plenty enough for cookies.