He slept better than a steaming vegetable, he ate like a vegetable this morning, too, and he figured he might as well complete the set by being a fucking vegetable. He was quiet the entirety of the morning, and he planned on being quiet the rest of the day; there was no one here he needed to talk to.

Deep inside he was pissed off to all hell when he saw Shinji in the showers, but even deeper inside he regrettably felt comfortable knowing that someone else he knew was here with him; that contentment and raw anger all at once created a drunken slurry of incomprehensible feeling inside of him, something he wasn't really sure of. With Shinji around, he knew there was a chance-- a chance to get out of here, and the overwhelming confidence that he really wasn't crazy after all, though arguably everyone else here was. He wasn't patient Tanaka, he was a Suzuhara, and he was sure of it... But it wasn't enough, and a kind of weariness and paranoia of being wrong seemed to overwhelm him, and this wasn't a good time for optimism to fail him--

"--Ow!"

He rubbed the back of his head, gritted teeth and all, as he glanced up at the red-head. It was weird enough seeing her in what was practically pajamas for guys, it was even worse that he came in and reminded him of what he was supposed to be doing and-- lose his game, goddamn!

Toji's voice was a low croak as he turned to face the television again, brows furrowed. "What're you doin' followin' me around for? Fuck off, Soryu."