Just then, little Bread had turned over in bed and began to crawl, as if she wanted to sneak back into the bag she had just gotten out of.
"Ahwu…?" she mumbled inquisitively.
Turning her head unintentionally, she caught Idiot's gaze fixed intently on her. Startled by such scrutiny, her arms gave way, and she plopped back onto the mattress.
Witnessing this, the icy look in Idiot's eyes melted away. He approached the bedside and took a seat. Little Bread must have thought a scolding was coming. She curled up, eyes shut, not daring to move.
To her surprise, gently, a hand stroked her pink hair with a tenderness uncharacteristic of someone so seemingly heartless.
Slowly, little Bread opened her eyes to find Idiot's stoic face, but the reproach was gone from his eyes. Instead, his hand continued to pet her hair and back, which comforted her.
