Keeping a place of your own where you expect to know where you've left your own things--years of it--can wrestle anyone into forced, maintained state of tidiness.

And yet, years of minimum housekeeping doesn't prepare Yamagi for the fact he's keeping company with not one, but two teenagers.

"Going at it? This place is a dump, and I've lived in a dump for a couple of years. The whole place smelled like the Old Man left out to dry in the sun before I took the big guns to it."

As thankful as he is for getting to stay here for free, he's had to tackle the bathroom and he already feels like a saint for it.

What he pushes into Shino's arms could be mistaken for a receptacle of sort, something Yamagi's bleached within an inch of its life to be usable once more.

"You look like you're about to faint, but I still need you to bring in the laundry."

Oh, right.

"Please?" h this time, he remembers to pull down the rag mask to show a smile of goodwill and a proof the bleach hasn't entirely gotten into his brain.