There it was. The foot-in-mouth moment. Silenced Aoba right quick.

Left standing awkwardly in the space behind the seats, Aoba spent the moments necessary to gather his thoughts in finger-combing his hair carefully back in place, ponytail split in its usual halves to either side of his neck. He couldn't imagine crying over crushed eggs, himself, but he didn't hesitate in thinking he'd most certainly feel bad if it happened.

"... You're too kind a soul for war," he thought, words voiced without real intention.