Soft steps filled your ears as you and your lovely Jiro patted towards the kitchen. She had woken you up to tell you that she had purchased a fresh box of coco to share with you. Snow clung to the windows, making the room feel exceedingly cold, only being balanced out by the soft slippers and blankets strewn over both of your bodies. Her cold hand was resting in yours, your palms meeting in a vulnerable embrace that you have never expected from such a strong woman. As the the kitchen stretches into sight, her eyes seem to narrow in on a small box that sat in the counter. Abuelita Cocoa. The best there is. Next to it sat two clean mugs, one a deep purple with a music note carved in to it, ans one a forest green with a beautiful fur tree carved into it.