Sometimes the radio interfered with his sharp ears but there was no way he could mistake the approach of those familiar footsteps across the floorboards. He could feel it drumming through the wood just enough to make them known and he sat back on his heels, his face alight with a wide, beaming smile. Dust smudged his cheeks, nose and the red handkerchief he'd donned for no reason other than to look the part. In his hand he held half of a porcelain cat, surely his death sentence once Tae-san saw.

"Aoba-san! Welcome home! How was work? Are you tired? I've missed you!" Always eager to make up for lost time, Clear rattled off compliments and questions as fast as they came to him.