As much as Hijikata hated to admit it, Homura had a point. It helped that he'd spotted Souji a few tables away, one arm resting in his lap but otherwise appearing uninjured. He'd talk with the younger man later.

He huffed out an irritated breath, and sat down again, glare moderated to a merely intense look. It was obvious enough that Homura intended to tell him something; the History Club's leader wasn't the sort to try and keep him at the table out of a desire for conversation.

"Say what you mean to say," he ordered, taking up his fork again and spearing one of the fried things.