Maruki blinked once, then let out another breath, softer this time, as his hand fell to the side and brushed against the small wrapped parcel he'd nearly forgotten.

"Oh—wait." He perked up slightly, rummaging beside him before presenting a neatly packed portion of takoyaki in a warm little box, the aroma still faintly clinging to it. "I completely forgot about this."

He offered it out to her, both sheepish and sincere. "I remembered last time—I didn’t even offer you any. After...y’know. Spoiling your fabric. I’m guessing you’ve probably already eaten this a dozen times by now, considering money doesn’t matter here and you hired the chefs but—still."

His tone softened, the offering now more than just food—it was a gesture, a balm, a thread of connection he could still offer even in this state. “Consider it a small token of appreciation. For humoring me. For being honest."

And finally, like a worn-out thread at the end of a long day, he slumped a little, his posture folding inward as the alcohol began pulling him further into rest. His eyes, heavy-lidded but still warm, flickered toward her one last time.

"I’ll take you up on that lunch," he murmured, voice quieter now. "When I’m not... a disaster."