[ Although Keita's expression is carefully schooled into one of only mild interest as he glances from his book up at Bakugo, there's no small amount of relief in his gaze at the sight of his partner. For Keita, too, this will be much more tolerable in the company of someone he already knows and likes well enough—he'd accepted the risk of it being a stranger when he agreed to the role, of course, but Bakugo's presence makes everything much easier.

He pushes himself up, first onto his elbows and then to prop himself on his hands, his book slipping down to lie forgotten on the futon. Keita lets his gaze travel along Bakugo's form, taking in the rigid lines of his uniform and the strong, commanding set of his shoulders. A position like this suits him, Keita thinks, although based on what he knows of Bakugo he imagines that the other man is probably smarting about having a "superior" to report to at all. ]

Is that any way to speak to the master of your house? [ Keita asks, his voice mild. ] Such liberties you take.

[ He doesn't get up. Perhaps a more insecure man would do so: stand to make himself taller than Bakugo, as if to underscore his own power by putting his captain below him. Keita doesn't need to. His power is a birthright and a blood curse, and he can fill a room without even moving. ]

Are you here to give your report? [ Keita asks instead. He shifts slightly, the silk of the kimono parting over his thigh. ] Or to take even further liberties?