Michio nodded as his roommate spoke, taking a seat on his own bed. He remembered the stretch of time in which one of Tatsuya's mothers was working as a maid. Michio had just been starting to work in the front of his parents' shop at that point, where before then all his work had been behind the scenes, mostly counting inventory and running to check if things were in stock. "Ah yes, I remember you now, or your name anyway. She was always quick at making friends. And yes, Tatsuya and I have been dear friends for nearly as long as I can remember." A ghost of a grin crossed his face as he thought over some fond memories. "She might as well be a sister to me."

The thought of nicknames must have crossed his mind the same time it crossed Tsukino's; Tatsuya had started calling him Mi-kun almost immediately, and she'd been the only one to continually -kun, -chan or -san him since. He never gave nicknames himself either - perhaps a side effect of working retail for as long as you could reliably count. 

But, pushing that somewhat embarrassing thought aside, Michio continued, wringing his hands together. "Yeah, funny how it all worked out. Small world I suppose, I can only imagine the sick satisfaction Tatsuya's getting right about now." Tsukino's next comment elicited a laugh, and a lightened smile. "Yes, enough about her. After all, at dinner we'll be lucky to get a word in edgewise. I feel for whatever poor girl got her as a roommate, it's a hell of a lot to get used to." Despite his lighthearted complaints, any chump could hear the fondness in his voice and know he didn't mean a word unkindly. 

"But anyway, I'm technically here for classical violin and piano, and some composing and theory. But uh..." he looked to his computer, knowing that behind the swirling screen savers were countless incomplete scores that he spent too much time tweaking to progress, and numerous homemade techno tracks that were mixed to a point where they were little more than fleeting white noise with beats like hammer falls and bass lines you could swim in. "...I'd like to consider myself more of a new-age music person. I mean I can appreciate classical and all, but I'm not exactly cramming my phone with Mozart." He chuckled, more of a filler sound than anything. "Thank you for the compliment, by the way." He dipped his head curtly to the boy opposite.

He felt his phone buzz in is pocket and glanced at it, the message rolling across the screen. Dubbing it safe to leave unanswered, he quickly tucked it away, not wanting to seem rude right off the bat. "Anyway, what are you here for? You're clearly a returning student, and by the looks of that shelf I'd say it has something to do with literature. Or are you forever the elusive mystery, and I'm shooting in the dark?"