Satoru was all sharp angles and brighter smiles, white hair catching the light like it was personally offended by the room's gloom. He spun the mic stand between his fingers, watching Choso with lazy amusement.

Suguru sat cross-legged on the floor, his long black hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck. His tone was calm, almost bored, but there was an edge to it that made Satoru roll his eyes dramatically.

The door creaked open.