The common room is anything but quiet. Then again, it never really is when Manga is involved. And tonight, he is in rare form.

“BZZT! ZAP!” blares the speech bubble as he races across the room, a blanket tied around his shoulders like a cape, socks skidding dangerously across polished floors.

Jurota, siting on the couch and attempting to finish an assignment, gives a low, rumbling sigh. “He’s been watching that retro superhero show again, hasn’t he?”

“Correct!” Manga’s voice chimes, the bubble shooting upward with comic-book flair. “I am Comicman! Defender of justice, destroyer of evil, and- OW!” He trips over a shoe someone had left half-hidden beneath a beanbag and goes down in a flurry of limbs, dramatic narration and cape fluttering.

The room pauses.

“... He’s fine,” Kinoko murmurs without looking up from her mushroom encyclopedia.

Manga pops up a moment later, hand dramatically held over his heart. “False alarm! Minor injury, major heroism!”