"I don't know what you're doing here," you said, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Sunday standing by the side entrance to the stage, his hands in his pockets and that eternally bored look on his face.

"I came to see Robin's competition crumble," he replied without flinching, though his gaze scanned your clothes, the glare of the lights reflecting off the sparkle of your short dress. "Or does it bother you?"

"Not at all. I'm flattered." You smiled, taking the microphone in your hands. "Although... if you're staying, I hope you enjoy it."

"Enjoy it? Please..." he snorted. "I don't need to enjoy it to know that Robin is better than you."

And yet... hours later, as the performance reached its peak, as your voice filled the room and the audience sang along...

Sunday was still there. Barely moving a finger to the beat of the music. His lips pursed. Eyes... fixed on you.

"...Hmph."

When the concert ended and the shouting filled Penacony, he was the first to look away, clearing his throat as if nothing had happened when he saw you leaving the stage and approaching him.