There was no point in staying in bed any longer. He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and got out of bed. Barnaby exited his bedroom and made his way to the kitchen, yawning into his hand. In order to get to his stove to turn on his tea pot, he had to cut through his main room. When he did so, he nearly jumped out of his skin.
Why was there a woman in his ch- Wait.
Dammit. He had forgotten about her.
He adjusted his glasses on his face, and stared at her helplessly, tiredly. "Good morning…" He greeted her not too cheerfully. His hand went to rest on his hip, but when his palm touched bare skin, he looked down and was greeted with only a pair of boxer briefs on his body. Ugh.
She frowned at this less than happy tone; but it was more than understandable - he'd just woken up, to a call no less. Shifting her weight in the chair and moving forward, her feet touched the ground and she effortlessly hoisted herself up, smiling. "Good morning."
His brief inner chiding at his appearance went unobserved by the brunette; she didn't mind, they were both adults and it's not something she hasn't seen before. Tomoe waved a hand, brushing it off and meeting him at his side. "If you want, I can make you breakfast."
Barnaby was about to protest, but then he shut his mouth. As much as that was unchivalrous to make a lady cook for him, a part of him believed that it was oddly fair. He was letting her stay in his home. A ghost: not just any, but the wife of his partner. She was certainly more trouble than she was worth. Whipping up breakfast was a small price to pay for his 'hospitality', right?
His brow knitted together, and frowned. That was rather rude of him to force her into this. He shook his head. "You don't have to. I can make something for the both of us; just tell me what you want."
"No, I insist." She stated cheerily, taking a step forward. "You go get dressed, I assume you don't have much time because of your call?" The brunette noted, turning to face him with a questioning expression. "Ah, you're not allergic to anything, are you?"
"No, I'm not." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. He was about to question how she knew he had gotten a call, but then it suddenly dawned on him that she had been married to a Hero for years. Barnaby cracked his neck again, and further went on to say, "And I don't have to go. It was a checkup call. I normally don't wake up so late in the day, so my superiors were worried. I can make my own breakfast: it's fine." Not that he really wanted to start cooking, but he still felt obligated to say that he would. It just didn't bode well with his pride to force a woman into such stereotypical tasks. Besides, he was a grown man. He had been looking after himself for years without an adult to pamper him: he didn't need to start having one now.
"I see, then I'll let you to that." She sighed in response, turning on her heel. The unwelcome feeling was still settled in her stomach, and she didn't know what she could possibly do to tide that feeling. Briefly, she wondered how her husband put up with this person — he seemed to only do things because they were right, not because of some other moral compass. It was going to be a long, long time before either of them truly accepted the other. She inwardly chuckled at this, remembering just how long it had taken Kotetsu to accept the blond, and just how hard it seemed for the latter to do the same for the former.
It felt almost like a broken record.
Scratching at his neck, he padded into the kitchen silently to unenthusiastically attend to breakfast. As he was picking ingredients out from his refrigerator for the omelette he had spontaneously planned on making, he decided that he had no choice in whether or not to cook the woman breakfast. Sighing, he fried up a pair of green pepper, mushroom, and cheese omelets for them. After he finished setting the table, he poked his head into the main area of his apartment, and said monotonously, "Breakfast's ready."
She returned to the chair, staying ominously silent while he worked in the kitchen. It smelled good, it did, but when he appeared with two plates, she couldn't help but frown for a moment, standing. Being dead meant she wasn't required to eat — she could if she wanted to, but it didn't really benefit her? "Oh, thank you." Nonetheless, she came over to the table in the next room, and sat down. "You really didn't have to go to all of this trouble, Barnaby. I appreciate it though."
"It really wasn't any trouble." His reply was not as cheerful as she may have wanted it to be, but he really wasn't in the mood to be entertaining guests and putting on his fake smile just yet. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and passed the carton over towards he side of the table. He began to eat. The omelette wasn't his best work, but it was fine. His gaze never left her: he observed her as he chewed and swallowed, trying to figure out exactly what he was going to do with her. Last night, before he passed out, he had sounded relatively optimistic. That was exhaustion talking. Now, when he was fully recharged for the day, reality came crashing down on him.
"Am I interesting to watch?" She asked, taking another bite of the egg. She eventually grasped the carton, and poured her glass; replacing the cap. Staying silent was her only option, and apparently his as well; he didn't seem like the type to talk, which was strange from what she always saw around the city. He seemed like the typical celebrity type.
Oh well, she'd have to deal with it — she told herself that her situation now was a lot better than always looking for somewhere safe. Sighing, she reached for her glass, downing the juice.
"Thank you for the meal." She said, pushing back from the table without another word.
The dead look -no pun intended, he swore, was making him feel worse than it should have. Why did she make a ball of guilt form in the pit of his stomach? It made absolutely no sense. Barnaby remained at the table, picking at his eggs with relatively no interest. "Yes. You are." The cold glass touched his lips as he took a sip, his expression monotonous. "I'm sure a lot of people would be fascinated if they had a dead woman in their house."
"I'm glad to be a source of entertainment for you then." She mumbled almost sarcastically, leaning against the counter. She shut her eyes, head leaning back in idle thought as she waited for him to finish. Various thoughts led her to think of how things were before she died, before she got sick — how her and Kotetsu were planning on having another child.
"Yeah, and most people would want me gone. Bad omens, y'know?"
He shrugged at her reply as another forkful of eggs were put into his mouth. After he swallowed his mouthful, he folded his hands below his chin and sighed. "Well, there really isn't much that I can do about this" He finished up the remains of his breakfast and started to wash the dishes. While drying and putting them back into the cabinets, he continued, "You're here, and that's how it is." Once he was done, he turned around, and leaned against the counter, watching her. "You need things, like clothing, don't you." He already knew the answer to that.
"You don't have to go to that trouble, honestly." She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I'm dead, it's not like I can soil my clothing in anyway. And wouldn't that cause a rise in suspicion if Kotetsu came over and saw female's clothing?" The woman turned, the kitchen door sliding open as she drew nearer; turning her head over her shoulder. "Look, I'll leave you alone to do whatever. I'm sure there's better things out there than staying at your apartment — I'll sleep or something."
Barnaby frowned. "He doesn't dig around in my drawers. I'm sure that a few things wouldn't be too difficult to hide from him." He went into his bedroom to get ready for a shower- he was very tempted to take her up on her offer. Sitting at home with someone he wasn't too fond of didn't sound like the idea of his perfect day. Taking a change of clothes with him, he waltzed into his bathroom. Before shutting the door, he peered out at her, with a bemused look. "Then again, you were married to him. Is he the kind of person to go through other people's things?"
"Not really, but if I happened to leave something out — unlikely I will because I was a mother, always picking things up…" She rambled on for a moment, stopping herself as she realized it was all useless information for the blond. "Pardon, I rambled on. Go do what you were going to." She sauntered back to his lounge chair, laying back and staring up at the ceiling.
He would have preferred if she hadn't talked to him in that kind of fashion, but he let his retorts stay within his head and out of the air. He locked the bathroom door- just in case, because he was still uncertain about trusting her, and hopped into a welcoming and warm shower. Once he had finished, he dried himself, his hair, and changed into his regular get-up- his olive pants, and a black v-neck shirt. Barnaby emerged from the steamy bathroom and put his old underwear into his laundry basket.
"You're really going to sleep? What did you do last night?" His eyes narrowed as he questioned her. Really, how could he not be suspicious?
"Nothing. I slept for a couple hours, then just watched the city wake up, until you woke up." She answered honestly, fiddling with her hair — thinking of a subject change. "I know you don't like me." Even if it was less than cheery. "So let's drop the act shall we? I've pieced together enough to know that you're not the same as when you're at work, so don't force yourself to act nice when you seem to dislike it."
She wasn't exactly making it easy for him to genuinely like her. So, now, he was being reprimanded for being civil with her? It made no sense at all to him. It made even less that Kotetsu had loved this woman enough to start a family with her.
Barnaby grimaced. "Drop the act?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing "If we're dropping niceties, then I want you out of my apartment."
"I can do that." She said flatly, standing from the chair. "Excuse me and I'll change." It took her a few minutes, but she returned clad in her white gown walking passed the blond without another word — closing the door behind her just as silently.
She wanted to be away from him as quickly as she could, even if it meant being homeless again. People that acted differently or hid their true colors annoyed her, and from the moment she'd figured that out, she knew it would be a bad situation for them both. So for the sake of the man rather than herself, she made herself look bad to get out of his presence and leave him alone — he'd earn no benefit from her other than a headache.