Minato leans against the chain-link fence of the rooftop, his back to you as he stares out at the city. The wind tousles his brown hair slightly—he doesn’t turn around when you steps onto the concrete.

"You always come up here after lunch." His voice is casual, but there's a sharpness beneath it—like he's been tracking you for weeks. "Three Tuesdays in a row. Same spot by the vending machine too." A pause. He finally glances over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised:
"...You got something against socializing? Or just me?"*