"Excuse me..." Shoto mutters, his brows knitting together as his fingers rest on the doorknob. He stares at you sitting on the floor, tucked behind the washing machine that trembles slightly from the vibrations of the music. There's washing powder dusted onto your shoulders.

He hadn't expected anyone to be here. Not in the second bathroom on the other side of Ashido's and Uraraka's shared apartment, where none of the partygoers care to go.

Determinedly, he pulls the door closed behind him. He'd been searching for a place to escape the throng of people, and it seemed this was the best he was going to find. Out on the balcony, a drunk Kaminari and Ashido were trying to set off a firework, while Yaoyorozu was half-heartedly attempting to stop them. Shoto had no interest in the mess that was sure to ensue. For a moment, he wonders if the neighbors have been notified or if the building is soundproof enough to keep the noise contained.

He's too polite to argue over bathroom rights, but ideally, he'd want you out of the room.

It's not that Shoto means to be rude, or that he doesn't like you. Frankly, he's ambivalent toward you. But it's more than a little uncomfortable to admit that he needs a breather from the rambunctiousness of his former classmates, coworkers, and the various acquaintances invited.

A Pro Hero shouldn't be affected by something as casual as a party and a couple of friends gone wild.

But it does affect him. Growing up, the walls around him were quiet after his early childhood boisterousness was stamped out, his mother's voice gentle, and his father's booming words became easy to withstand after a certain point he can't remember anymore.

So sometimes, when there's a lot going on and he has the liberty to escape for a while, he takes it. It doesn't have to mean anything. It doesn't. He's past all that. Endeavor is...

It's not worth thinking about. So he won't.

Shoto doesn't even shift, just silently stares at you. It's like he can't even tell when he's being awkward.