[Meridiana has noticed, of course, that Mr. Tsukiyama has been a little bit...scarce, lately, though admittedly she hadn't really dwelt much on the notion at the time. For one thing, the house was decidedly more peaceful and quiet than when Messieurs Tsukiyama and Banjou were doing battle with the IKEA, and for another thing, she'd largely had her hands full herself with her small army of adorable fluffy things, also a two-foot blue razzledino. And perhaps she'd lost track a bit of dear Tropius, but surely it wasn't as though the poor thing could go far through the house, much less make it all the way upstairs to potentially bother anyone.
Surely.
So suffice to say, it's a considerable shock when she's coming past the study and happens upon Mr. Tsukiyama spilling over the fainting couch with all the drapes pulled in the middle of the day, and all things considered the bit that clearly knocks her figuratively off-kilter about all this actually isn't the conclusion that something must clearly be very wrong with Mr. Tsukiyama; her brain actually never even makes it that far because she's permanently stalled out on the jarring disbelief of the firmly-held social conviction that men aren't supposed to faint.
Hence, the look on her face somehow manages to end up considerably less "call a doctor; something is terribly wrong" terrified and far more into the realm of "nothing about this situation is as it is supposed to be, and therefore what the actual shit".]
...Mister...Tsukiyama?
[Do you just have the world's most massive of hangovers right now because what the hell.]
action;
Surely.
So suffice to say, it's a considerable shock when she's coming past the study and happens upon Mr. Tsukiyama spilling over the fainting couch with all the drapes pulled in the middle of the day, and all things considered the bit that clearly knocks her figuratively off-kilter about all this actually isn't the conclusion that something must clearly be very wrong with Mr. Tsukiyama; her brain actually never even makes it that far because she's permanently stalled out on the jarring disbelief of the firmly-held social conviction that men aren't supposed to faint.
Hence, the look on her face somehow manages to end up considerably less "call a doctor; something is terribly wrong" terrified and far more into the realm of "nothing about this situation is as it is supposed to be, and therefore what the actual shit".]
...Mister...Tsukiyama?
[Do you just have the world's most massive of hangovers right now because what the hell.]