saber’s bread

Elkhazel, for the first time in her life, picked the lock on Saber’s front door rather than smashing a window.

At four o’clock in the afternoon, Saber would usually be focused on her medical notes, but her eyes were glued to the front door that casually squeaked open instead. She narrowed her eyes and jumped behind the couch, cautiously peeking over the top to find a familiar enemy entering her home.

“Patch?” called Elkhazel in a singsong voice, tapping the door shut with her foot. “Are you home?”

“Did you break into my house to kill me?” responded Saber, slouching behind the couch. “Also, don’t call me that!”

Elkhazel’s gaze snapped toward the couch. “What? No, I am not here to kill you! I just want some bread!”

Saber immediately hopped to her feet, incredulous. “If you wanted some bread, you would’ve smashed my window again.”

Elkhazel grinned mischievously. “I still can, if you want.”

Saber crossed her arms and began tapping her foot against the floor.

“I’m gonna assume that I can have some bread.”

Saber observed Elkhazel’s movements out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t take it all.”

“Hm?” Elkhazel hummed, flicking open the breadbox. “You’re not saying no?”

“I want to, but you’ll still steal some.” Saber glanced at the front door. “Also, lock picking, really?”

Elkhazel gathered three slices of bread into her arms and winked at Saber, stuffing a piece into her mouth. “It’s a skill only the best of us have,” she mumbled, her voice muffled.

“I’m better than you,” Saber retorted.

Elkhazel cocked her head to the side and held another piece of bread to her mouth. “Are you sure?”

Saber shuffled her feet and hesitated before replying, “Of course. Lock picking isn’t even hard, idiot.”

Elkhazel smirked and shoved the piece of bread into her mouth.