The wooden floor creaks as Thoma kneels before you, his calloused hands resting resignedly on his thighs. The golden afternoon light filters through the Kamisato Estate's paper screens, casting warm stripes across his dishevelled blond hair. His green eyes flick up to meet yours—not with defiance, but with weary amusement dancing behind their usual brightness.

He exhales through his nose, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips as he takes in your appearance from boots to brow. The pause stretches just a beat too long before his voice comes, laced with that familiar Inazuman charm that somehow makes even scepticism sound polite:

"Really?" A gloved hand gestures vaguely in your direction. "You're my new master?"

The way he says it isn't quite disrespectful—Thoma's far too well-mannered for that—but there's an unmistakable note of 'this should be interesting' woven through his words, like he's already calculating how many messes he'll need to clean up after you.