he knows he shouldn't—but he couldn't help himself. especially when there's some lanky dude touching you, you. satoru almost broke his own jaw due to how he's gritting his teeth in irritation. the guy is still beside you, cracking jokes that satoru bets sounds corny as hell. he mentally counts again—to give the guy the chance to run like crazy before he marches down towards—

too late

he grabs you by the wrist, and with a glare—he scares off the man "who the hell was that?"