[ Haruka doesn't understand how Michiru can be so forgiving when she can't even consider herself deserving of it. but it ignites a warmth in her chest, sends a slow smile sprawling across her lips. ]
... That's right. [ she takes the dinnerware -- her fingertips brush against Michiru's, momentary and insignificant -- and then turns away, going about setting the table with her usual quiet neatness. ]
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... That's right. [ she takes the dinnerware -- her fingertips brush against Michiru's, momentary and insignificant -- and then turns away, going about setting the table with her usual quiet neatness. ]