“Yeah?” Raidou said, amused, because Ryouma would pick the moment when Raidou didn’t actually have anything else to say. “Guess there had to be a first time for everything.”

Ryouma’s mouth twitched. “There's a joke in there about first times. Notice how I'm not making it? Boundaries.”

“I am so proud,” Raidou said dryly.

Ryouma’s coffee mug lifted in a salute before he drained the remainder. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Actually, of the three ducklings, Ryouma seemed the most inclined to pay attention, engage, and question, at least during training. Katsuko was an old hand at Raidou’s methods; teasing the rookies was more interesting to her. And Kakashi was still half-enigma, half-brat, all problem.

Speaking of which.

“Have you eaten?” Raidou asked, standing and collecting Ryouma’s mug.

Ryouma’s eyebrows quirked. “You’re not forgetting your promotion already, are you? I thought nagging the rookies about nutrition was the lieutenant's job.”

“Sometimes I can multitask,” Raidou said, taking both mugs to the tiny kitchenette sink. Ryouma had only been in the room for four days, but there was already a clutter of unwashed dishes lurking at the bottom, growing fur. Cautiously, Raidou used a pair of chopsticks to turn a plate over. Dried flecks of what might have been curry rice dropped into the plug hole.

Yeah, no.

He flipped the water on and unearthed Ryouma’s dish soap. “I was actually going to say, I need to hang out in a visible place fairly soon. Hatake’s supposed to find me in—” he glanced out of Ryouma’s one window, gauging the sun. “Twenty minutes or so.”

If Ryouma had opinions about other people doing his dishes, he didn’t voice them. “Is that an ‘I should head out now’ or a ‘You can come with’?” he asked.

“It’s a ‘want to come eat with me and also be a witness so I don’t give into the temptation to beat our charming teammate with his own book?’” Raidou said, stacking plates into the drying rack.

Ryouma lounged up off the bed and came over, leaning against the closest wall. He stretched his arms up, unkinking his back with a series of snapping pops, and eyed the soapy dishes like they were a shiny new concept. “I dunno,” he mused, “I might prefer seeing that. What’d he do?”

Pissed me off, Raidou thought.

“He was rude,” he said, and shut the water off. “Food?”