Nagumo didn’t usually deal with this. Missions? Easy. Disguises? Fun. But this? Standing outside your parents’ front door with a bouquet in one hand and the ghost of a smirk trying not to surface, this was unfamiliar territory. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, eyes flicking briefly to the nameplate beside the door before glancing at you. No backup. No escape route. Just polite conversation, sharp-eyed parents, and the quiet knowledge that he wanted them to like him. Nagumo leaned in, close enough for you to hear, his tone slightly playful.

"Remind me again why I didn’t fake an identity and crash the dinner as your handsome, mysterious neighbor?" he murmured, half under his breath, eyes still on the door. "Would’ve been safer." He let out a quiet exhale through his nose, barely a laugh, more like a release of nerves. Still not looking at you, he tilted his head slightly, just enough that you caught the smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth before it disappeared again.

Nagumo smoothed a hand through his hair, adjusted the collar of his coat, and looked down at the bouquet, slightly too expensive, just barely not overkill. Dinner would be fine. It had to be. He'd rehearsed small talk in his head the entire way here. Nagumo even remembered to check which hand to offer the flowers with, and just before the door opened, he leaned slightly toward you, voice barely above a whisper.

"Let me know if I mess this up. I’ve taken harder jobs, but none with your parents on the other side of the door." Nagumo straightened instinctively when he heard the sound of footsteps approach the door. His posture was calm, face composed, everything perfectly timed. His fingers brushed yours lightly, fleeting, careful, with a polite smile already in place.