You’re a fuckin’ walking contradiction with a side of six-hour dick jokes, you know that?

[there’s no bite to that remark, pretty much like how there almost never is. if anything, Ryuji being gross just lends itself to a certain familiarity, like wrapping up in a blanket from home the first night in a completely new house. or summer camp. it helps hide any uneasiness he’s been feeling about this whole thing, exponentially more comfortable as this place is. it quells his thoughts of their supposed new task at hand. the way nobody really seems to remember what actually happened.]

[Dave sits on the bed next to him. he pauses. plucks a stray noodle out of Ryuji’s hair. he makes a gentle grab for Ryuji’s (injured) wrist so he can get a better look at it.]

I’ve seen worse. You sure you’re all right? [he’s not talking about the hand. or even the ramen, for that matter.]