The warmth and the company is soothing for Esteban as well, and he closes his eyes and dozes along with his friends, enjoying the moment for how simple it is. He nuzzles Snapper gently as they all settle, curling up in this little pile of scales and limbs and manes, his wing thoroughly secured at the edge of the bathtub-- now's not the time to have it fall.
Time drifts in that inconsequential way, like dust glittering in warm sunbeams. Something so simple and normal, and still so lovely in its own way. A yawn stretches his mouth far more widely than Esteban ever thought possible-- and his nose turns, head leaning against the little apple-dragon next to him. Dozing, dreaming, sleeping.
Until Kaiba leaps, spine twisting in odd directions, his voice caught in his throat. Esteban barely has the time to catch a glimpse that he falls off, off the wing and off the safety of his limbs and off into the water, and Esteban screams out his name before Snapper--
Snapper has to stay, and he pulls the wing out of the water, tucking her close, neck and mane pressing against her in half-comfort and half-holding her back. He calls again, tail thrashing behind him and knocking the lamp over, but it hardly matters, only that he doesn't know what-- a wing settles between Snapper and the tub again, a desperate attempt to hold her still while he darts, curving near the rim and--
Kaiba's human hand splashes onto the tiles, just before he heaves at the surface, water beading across his hair and face and Esteban's breath catches up with him in a big gasp that mirrors Kaiba's own.
"Dead Guardians in a Ditch," he swears, colourfully, because little Snapper here shouldn't hear worse than that. "Are you okay?"
It's... Hard to do anything in his awkward body, limbs too short and claws too long, but Esteban grips at his friend as best he can, as gently as he can, with his wing talon on one of his shoulder, while his tiny little chicken legs take the other. It's very little, but it helps keep him above the water, even though it's a bit restrictive in its own way. His claws don't pierce the skin, but Kaiba can certainly feel them, pricking like needles.
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Time drifts in that inconsequential way, like dust glittering in warm sunbeams. Something so simple and normal, and still so lovely in its own way. A yawn stretches his mouth far more widely than Esteban ever thought possible-- and his nose turns, head leaning against the little apple-dragon next to him. Dozing, dreaming, sleeping.
Until Kaiba leaps, spine twisting in odd directions, his voice caught in his throat. Esteban barely has the time to catch a glimpse that he falls off, off the wing and off the safety of his limbs and off into the water, and Esteban screams out his name before Snapper--
Snapper has to stay, and he pulls the wing out of the water, tucking her close, neck and mane pressing against her in half-comfort and half-holding her back. He calls again, tail thrashing behind him and knocking the lamp over, but it hardly matters, only that he doesn't know what-- a wing settles between Snapper and the tub again, a desperate attempt to hold her still while he darts, curving near the rim and--
Kaiba's human hand splashes onto the tiles, just before he heaves at the surface, water beading across his hair and face and Esteban's breath catches up with him in a big gasp that mirrors Kaiba's own.
"Dead Guardians in a Ditch," he swears, colourfully, because little Snapper here shouldn't hear worse than that. "Are you okay?"
It's... Hard to do anything in his awkward body, limbs too short and claws too long, but Esteban grips at his friend as best he can, as gently as he can, with his wing talon on one of his shoulder, while his tiny little chicken legs take the other. It's very little, but it helps keep him above the water, even though it's a bit restrictive in its own way. His claws don't pierce the skin, but Kaiba can certainly feel them, pricking like needles.