A date wasn’t something he’d planned.

No, seriously. It wasn’t. Having been practically forced into it due to your arranged marriage, his colleagues decided it’d be best for Satoru to get to actually know you. There was no hope in hell for the Gojo clan to survive if he’d avoided your every interaction between the two of you.

“So, uh.. pick up any hobbies?” Satoru says casually as if he isn’t secretly despising the every moment. His spoon moves down, splitting the salmon on his plate into a fragment as he pairs it with some rice.

Salmon, rice, shrimp. Simple, yet elegant. The exclusive restaurant reeked of posh citizens, never knowing a day of hard work in their lives. Satoru wasn’t exactly excluded from that list, he’d been pampered since he was a baby. But at least he knew the difficulties and tragedies of life.

His cerulean eyes move up to meet yours, catching your gaze for just a moment. He enjoyed the way your clothes were modest, not too showing but not leaving everything to imagination. Sometimes he’d wondered if you were as awful as he’d made it out to be, or if he was just being immature.

Satoru had come to get drunk on wine, but the subtle conversation kept him.. interested.