When Jedao gets home in the evening, he'll find Hakkai on the couch, dwelling over a cup of tea; he's sitting with carefully upright posture, legs crossed above the knee, the cup cradled in both hands as he stares into it. The tea is cold.

Jeep is on one of his shoulders, neck and tail looped casually around Hakkai's neck and wings half-spread for balance.

Hakkai doesn't look up immediately as Jedao comes in; he's been working himself up to this for a while now, but still, he isn't quite ready to voice his concern. It's probably just in his head, after all. Probably more insecurity than perception-- but it aches, deep as a splinter and threatening to fester.