Tezuka adjusted his glasses and gave Ryoma the quiet, grave look that meant that the boy had done something that was not, as it were, directly forbidden, but that Ryoma certainly should have known better, given his buchou, the world, and the heavenly host. "Echizen," said Tezuka calmly, "What have I told you about dealing with the heavenly host?"
"…don’t take computer games from them." Ryoma paused. "Oh, and ask how things are going in heaven and hell, because it’s always good to be informed about one’s allies and opponents." Ryoma’s expression was decidedly sulky. "It’s not as if I asked for anything like wings."
Tezuka chose to ignore this and simply murmured, "Who was it?"
Echizen blinked. "…uh, shortish, red hair, talked like a punk…"
"Michael, then," Tezuka said. He fell silent, his brow furrowed only to the point that people who knew him very well would notice. "He came to me."
Ryoma snorted. "Stupid of him to ask you…"
Tezuka’s expression cleared. "He asked about you, actually."
"…..I hope, whatever it was, you said no."
"I pointed him in Tachibana’s direction." Ryoma could have sworn that Tezuka’s eyes were smiling behind his glasses, but he decided that he didn’t want to know what had just been inflicted on the Fudoumine captain.
"So, buchou," said Ryoma brightly, brushing angelic concerns away for the moment, "You’re up for a game, right?"
