"Rai," Genma complained, chasing his friend down the street. But he put the sweater on, grateful for the warmth and for Raidou's gesture. Even if he didn't really need it. He could always have run back upstairs and grabbed a jacket and a pair of gloves after all. But he wasn't fool enough to turn Raidou down. And he'd seen the look on Raidou's face. It was a look he reserved for those times he was actually worried, as opposed to the scowl that meant, Genma, you're such an idiot or the one that meant, I screwed something up. No, the scowl Genma'd caught a glimpse of just before that sweater was peeled off, was the Oh shit, you're injured scowl.

Which of course Genma wasn't. And his hands only hurt a little.

He pulled the sweater, already too big on Raidou so even more so on himself, closer around himself, pulled his hands up inside the ends of too-long sleeves, and jogged to catch up to his friend.

"I'm not actually made of glass you know," he said, falling in step beside him. "And nice shirt, actually." It was dark iron grey, of a smooth, heavy fabric and cut trimly. It fit Raidou to a T. Maybe shivering and getting stuck wearing Raidou's sweater had some silver linings after all.

Not, of course that you noticed such things with your best friend, with whom you were not on a date.