And Aoba’s face was pale again. Oh, not from the woman’s demeanor or even the vaguely flirty, perhaps even suggestive remarks, oh no. He’d heard the jingling of coins and had played enough RPGs in his time to understand the implications of silver.

“Declan!” he blurted, rounding back towards the Guardian with his blanching turning back to blushing. Ashamed more than embarrassed, he’d been taking solace in the fact that food and housing was free, and didn’t ‘requisitions’ mean supplies that were doled out at need and not paid for? So he’d totally assumed—

“You already bought me a drink—you didn’t say you’d have to pay for clothes for me!” That just…that wasn’t fair! To Declan! Aoba was certain that money had to be hard-earned and he knew there had to be better things to be spending it on than some bathroom-crasher like him!

Just like that, Aoba’s hopeful confidence had turned around into an embarrassed fluster.