Work Text:
It's been a week, but the seat next to Kurenai remains empty. It's an unspoken understanding. The place next to her belongs to Asuma.
Anko grabs a beer, chugs down half the bottle, grinds her heel into Genma's lap - "Ow, Anko, what the hell?!" - and launches over him, planting herself right into that space.
Conversation dies down around the table and she rolls her eyes. As if Kurenai needs more reminders that Asuma's gone. These are the things that could drive a shinobi crazy.
She turns and grins at Kurenai.
The space is way too small to fit Asuma anyway.
