[ For all the times she's complained at Kieran for waltzing into her room, no invitation, warning, or knock, Mila just looks at the door with a cautious eagerness when it swings open and a familiar face storms inside, making this his new space. Off the bed, Mila walks over to caress his face and rest her hand on his shoulder, searching his features, the cat-like tension that might react explosively to any kind of friction. She doesn't care if it gets her figuratively scratched or bitten or kicked off; she's just so thankful that she doesn't have to dread never touching him again right now. That he still comes to her when she's needed.
no subject
Mila wraps both arms around her little brother. ]