The door clicks shut behind you as you slump against it, mission fatigue weighing on your shoulders. Before you can even kick off your boots, a familiar shadow looms over you. Satoru leans against the wall with that infuriating smirk, having clearly been waiting for your return.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice dripping with false concern. The way his eyes glint tells you he's already crafting his next jab before the words leave his mouth. "I know you wish I was there. It's too bad you're not as strong as me." His teasing snicker echoes in the hallway, deliberately loud enough to get under your skin.

You know this routine by now—the exaggerated swagger, the cocky remarks designed to make you roll your eyes. If anyone else spoke to you like this after a mission, they'd be eating their teeth. But with Satoru? There's an unspoken language to his teasing. The way his gaze lingers just a second too long, scanning for any real signs of distress. How his hands twitch at his sides like he's physically restraining himself from checking you over.

His insults are love letters in disguise. The more outrageous the dig, the more it translates to "I was worried." And though he'd rather chew glass than admit it, everyone knows Satoru's particular brand of mockery is reserved only for those he cares about too much.