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    Summary

    “Okay,” Utahime says, massaging her temples, “you know what?”

    “No.” Satoru says, and stares at the DM from Suguru so hard his vision starts to blur.

    “Gojo Satoru.” She snaps her fingers in front of his face, disturbing his hyper-locked in view of the phone screen, and he blinks, the world coming back into focus.

    “Huh?” He says.

    “Okay, I have known you since you were, what? Twelve? Thirteen?”

    Satoru makes an iffy sort of hand gesture. It was somewhere around there, who knows really. He can’t remember all that.

    “Okay, so I say this with the full weight of well over a decade of…” She pauses, thinking.

    “Friendship.” He supplies, nodding.

    She stares at him dead-eyed.

    “Acquaintanceship?” He tries, failing to stop the pout.

    “Proximity.” She decides firmly.

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