[ Birthday schmirthday. He is a little bit older, but that hasn't tempered any of his very teenage indignations, and his answer doesn't soothe any prickled nerves. (It reads like it has holes. Purposeful gaps to an easy mode ending, meant to assuage rather than answer him. Like a child.) After all, Akira had been apprehended too, and for what—being so bold as to help someone? An arrest doesn't mean much of anything, and Richie doesn't make it sound like the two points connect into one line.

He sets the kettle to boil, going through the motions. It doesn't make his answer any less stern. ]

And yet, it seems your dreams have not.

[ Said with a brusque sort of restlessness, the kind that comes from being wide awake and sitting very still. Yusuke pauses at the cabinet, almost forgetting why he'd gone there in the first place, eventually retrieving two mugs and setting them on the counter with a gentle clink despite how tight his wrist feels. It's not like he could do anything about any of this—and it isn't proper to let someone else bear his ventless anger.

Sorry, Richie. He shakes his head, leaning against the counter as he waits for the water to boil, digging up tea to steep. Some Olympian brew that reminds him a bit of chamomile and lemon. ]

...I don't mean to interrogate you. [ Yusuke's not the one who just woke up in a cold sweat. No reason for him to be so worked up. ] It must have been difficult, even if it wasn't your blood.