And pleased Aoba was when he saw it, his smile lighting his whole face. He’d changed into the new clothes and, though they were monotone and militarian, he felt much better to be out of the Decker ensemble. The only splash of color was the fading gradient of his damp, towel-blotted hair. Freed from its ponytail, the longer portions hung most of the way down his back now.

Thanks, Ren, he mouthed when his little partner looked his way, while he himself continued on to the little kitchen space. His footsteps were soft, wearing socks but not the new boots, as old habits dictated.

“Aah, I needed that!” he announced for Declan’s benefit as he returned, the goal being obvious gratitude rather than obvious presence. “I’m going to get started on the cooking now, alright, Declan?”