Y/n stood by the bar, drink in hand, mid-conversation with someone who had clearly been working up the nerve all night. He leaned in a little too close, laughed a little too loud, and let his hand drift a little too near Y/n's arm.

Satoru had been quiet for almost thirty seconds.

Concerning.

Satoru's fingers tapped once against his glass. Then he pushed off the bar, unhurried, and crossed the short distance in a few easy strides.