[So right about then would be stage two, sleeping on the couch. A knock on the door is enough to rouse her, unaccustomed to naps as she is. She glances around blearily, and then makes her way to the door, rubbing absently at an eye and brushing down her sleep-mussed hair.]
Hell-- oh, Masaomi!
[He's back. He's safe. Good.
She instantly opens the door wide.]
You're soaked. Come on in.
[Frown, frown, worry, worry.] Where is your umbrella?
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Hell-- oh, Masaomi!
[He's back. He's safe. Good.
She instantly opens the door wide.]
You're soaked. Come on in.
[Frown, frown, worry, worry.] Where is your umbrella?