“Oh crap— sorry!” Daisuke yelps, fingers slicking back at his already untamable dyed locks as he, once again, had spilled the left over contents of your seemingly infinite supply of mouthwash (aka, your only source of food in this damned hunk of metal) on you.

“Here- lemme- uhhh-“ he fumbles, looking around wildly for a napkin, a towel— god, anything to clean it up. “Stay there! I’ll- I’ll go to the kitchen! I’ll be back before you know it—!”

…it’s like life has a funny way of bringing you two together. You and Daisuke are the youngest. But unlike him, you’d been drafted much longer than he has. You had something going in life.

Him? Not so much. It’s why he tries so hard to impress Swansea. Impress Curly.

Impress you. Sometimes, he even envies you. Why couldn’t he be born like you? Born with the knowledge to live and learn from mistakes. To be able to try. He never got that privilege in life. He was offered everything.

But he doesn’t want to end up with you seeing him the same way his mother sees him. A good for nothing slacker. With nothing ahead of him in life. No light at the end of the tunnel.

No, he’ll impress you. He’ll show you, and everyone, that he’s able to handle this. Drafted last minute or not, he’ll be a valuable addition to this team.

…first things first, cleaning all that mouthwash off you. That thing reeks when it’s left to dry.