[center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/617914243760783381/866258589646323732/thumbnail_yuuya.png[/img][/center]"Oh. Yonaka-chan ... [i]Konbanwa.[/i]"

[i]Jeez, woman, you think I'm the one who's gonna steal him from you? Chill.[/i]

Yeah, there was overprotectiveness—a jealous boyfriend guarding his squeeze, a [i]hikikomori[/i] for whom behind every corner there lies in wait a robber or a [i]yakuza[/i] tout—an older brother watching his [i]imouto[/i] at the park, perhaps—and then there was whatever the hell Yonaka Aimi was. A class all of her own, that one.

While she blabbed, Yūya leaned just far enough back to see past her, where Ishida had managed not to evaporate away in the intensity of her glare. Well ... if he wanted a beer he could always come grab it, Yūya reckoned with a shrug, so he set it down atop the precipice, right where the wall ended and the chain-link fence began. If Ishida took the initiative and walked over to it himself there was no way in hell Yonaka would keep interfering. She just about worshiped the dirt that touched his loafers, never mind getting in his way, even to "protect" him from whatever poison she had detected in the brown glass neck frothing with bitter effervescence. Yūya placed another beer right beside it for Yonaka, but if she rebuffed too he'd claim it was for himself all along.

Anyway ... Little mochi? Class pet? Ankle-biter?

"She's just another first-year, ain't she?" said Yūya. "They're [i]all[/i] tiny, but ..."