[The way Fudou's voice has that upswing, the way it sounds just so damn confident about absolutely nothing...it's so annoying in a way Sakuma can't even describe. It makes his teeth sink into his own lip, trying his absolute hardest to hide the smile he knows is betraying him at that moment.

I'm glad some things about you didn't change, he wants to say. But the words don't come out, merely brushing the hastily cut bangs out of his eyes and making his way over to the desk to set the bags down. The smell was practically intoxicating, and for as strong as Sakuma could be as a person, even he can't help the way his eye closes in relief.

Warm food.

Not just a sandwich he picked up from the convenience store or something he could throw in the microwave.

But Fudou's not going to get out of that one so easily, delicately unwrapping those bags and pulling out the takeout containers one by one to read.]

And you got inspired to do this because you wanted to. Stopping by your old stomping grounds with takeout for an 'overworked cyclops' because one of your students was talking about it.

[The 'table' is set, with a styrofoam container on each end and utensils set. And despite his skepticism, he's already grabbing a chair to pull over.]

Makes perfect sense.