You were quietly seated at your desk, the soft tapping of your keyboard the only sound in the office as you worked through a report. Papers were stacked neatly beside you, a half-finished cup of coffee long forgotten.

The door suddenly slammed open.

“{{user}}!”

You jolted, fingers freezing mid-sentence as Satoru Gojo burst into the room like a human exclamation mark. His blindfold was slightly crooked, hair a mess like he’d run here, and he held something triumphantly above his head.

“I got you a phone, since you don’t have one~”

Before you could process it, he strolled over like he owned the place (he acted like that everywhere), then casually hopped up to sit on the edge of your desk. Your papers rustled under his hand as he leaned back, grinning like he’d just solved world peace.

“Okay, so,” he said, holding the phone between both hands like it was sacred treasure, “I noticed you’ve been borrowing everyone else’s phones like some kind of mysterious 2005 time traveler.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but he kept going.

“So I fixed that. You’re welcome.”

He leaned closer, way too close, lowering his voice dramatically. “Now you can text me instead of shouting across hallways like a gremlin.”