Rukia raised her head, her eyes widening slightly at his response. He meant to keep it? All of it? She and Flynn had gone through great effort to find that many doilies, surely he'd at least throw out a few of those.

She looked at him silently, studying the slope of his shoulders, the way his coat flowed so easily with his movements as he stirred the pot. The sight of him made her throat feel tight. How was it possible to feel so completely lost, and yet, so happy at the same time? Happy over ridiculous furniture, of all things!

Rukia pressed her back against the wall with her arms folded behind her, just out of his sight, and tipped her head back to look at the ceiling. For weeks she'd debated on whether or not she should ever allow herself to feel the things she did. The vision from the sage seemed to indicate that she'd made a choice and enjoy the benefits of her mortality. Now she was starting to understand why she'd made that kind of decision.

"You really are...very kind," she said quietly. "It's good to see you again."