[ It doesn't feel enough for the gesture Mister LaRusso's made. But Robby doesn't know how to fill in the empty spaces, and saying anything close to 'I see you like a dad' makes his throat get stuck. How can he say that? Is it true? With all the parts of his feelings not son-like; and yet he can't deny that Mister LaRusso's been more to him than, well...

Anyone ever has.

At least Mister LaRusso is taking some of the work of the aftermath away and off his shoulders. But Robby rises too, a little awkward in its speed, his bag held in his hands. ]

Uh--I got something for you. And Mister Toguchi? Or just the house. I'll put them in the kitchen. [ For the hurried rise and need to speak, Robby does slow, and if Mister LaRusso look at him, he'll give him an awkward smile. ] I got some soup mugs with lids. Thought they looked cool.

[ It was imperative that he shared this news with Mister LaRusso......... ]

[ He would've stopped and showed Mister LaRusso in the living room if he were so curious, but the man is moving into the kitchen, and so Robby will too, asking along the way: ]

Is it still soup if you have pasta in it? Like minestrone. [ Oh, Robby sounds proud for remembering that one. Isn't that the pasta soup? Because yes, Robby loves chunky stuff in his soup.

But coming into the kitchen, Robby goes to the nearby counter and brings out two no THREE soup mugs!! They're cute and dandy with their little lids, a slip of colour around the rim of the lid and bottom of the cups revealing what Robby shows as he opens them up: their insides have their own colours, in a blue, green, and turquoise. ]

Nice, huh?

[ Look at him, Mister LaRusso, looking so pleased but also watching you, waiting on your reaction with hope...!! A tad shy too, but that isn't stopping him from standing in anticipation. ]

[ Does it mean soup in Italian? Mister LaRusso could be fucking around for all Robby knows, but it's not important enough to question beyond a 'Really?' along the way into the kitchen.

But yes, the approval really does hit Robby like it's on main, like a brightness to his person, the widening of the smile already on his face. Truly, Robby should have just been giving Mister LaRusso his gifts to begin with? They would have both been happier for it, Robby only looking away briefly in that shy manner when the man touches his shoulder.

B-but, huh, that joke does hit differently with the conversation that preceded it. At least Robby has a quick enough answer, looking at the three mugs before back at Mister LaRusso: ] You planning on keeping Mister Toguchi around too?

[ In this scenario where Robby is going to live here forever. ]

[ Robby doesn't miss the change in Mister LaRusso's inflection, the switch from joking to sincere. It presses into Robby like a warm touch, an honesty he wants to shy away from, but also bask in. His gaze still darts away briefly, but he does look back at his sensei too, a tight smile on his face. ]

Now who's trying to keep who around forever? [ He chooses jokes before following his sensei's lead in this, but he's glad that he's been able to make the man happy. Even if he isn't sure how long he'll be staying, if his feelings can be called the same--when everything is far complicated for him than he'd like any of it to be, but.

Well, it doesn't change that he does appreciate Mister LaRusso. ...and his food. ]

If I do stay here, [ and it starts as a joke, keeps as one, obvious by his tone and that wrinkle to his nose he gets when he bobs his head, ] --I'm gonna go through with an idea I had of stealing the house next door so we can have a bigger yard. And an exercise room. I told Mob we should have a gym.

[ You know, as you do. ]

Just making sure we have the best dojo in town. [ Is that a crime? Look at this boy, arms out and nonchalant, that youthful punky attitude that can still be sweet despite the competitive challenge underneath it. His dad can't hear it (............his....dad dad), so no harm done.

But jokes aside, Robby taps the side of the counter with his forefingers, a look taken at the mugs and some other jars. ] Did you want any help with anything in here? Or can I go and make the layout plans?

[ He'd say 'in his room', but you know what, Mister LaRusso can likely get what he means. Would he like some help, or should Robby go and do his thing?

(That isn't actually planning to expand the dojo.) ]

Sure. [ There's a chirp to the word, and Robby leaves the kitchen without any more to say, his bag in his hands to take with him to the room he's been occupying while staying with Mister LaRusso. He sits it somewhere near the end of the bed as his feet lead him to the drawer beside it, and then doubles around when he decides to sit himself down too on said bed.

And maybe, you know, think about what happened before the talk of minestrone and soup cups. Something about Mister LaRusso seeing him as a son, and what that actually means.

(He talked to his dad about it, too? What do the two of them talk about, even?)

What does it mean, when a man sees you like a son? Says he sees you like one, no different from his own children--because that seems hard to believe, that anyone ever could. It's the comfortable lie you tell those younger than you to make them feel included, surely.

(Mister LaRusso called him part of the family once before, and Robby knows he shouldn't hold the past against him; but it's not him he holds it against, but himself. Because didn't it sound so nice? Didn't it feel it? Living in that spare room turned bedroom, hanging out with Sam and eating family meals.)

What does he do about the parts of himself that Mister LaRusso doesn't know about? The same as he should everything else, Robby concludes, staring off at every other wall. Twitching the coldblood bracelet around his wrist, as if it and his heart don't complicate his feelings enough.

Take Mister LaRusso's word that this doesn't change anything, and see how far that gets him.

Because that's sure going to work. ]