The impatience Satoru demonstrates gets her a roll of the eyes. If Suguru's hair had been down, she would have tossed it over her shoulder, a petulant child trying her best to show her disdain. As it is, tucked up in a messy bun, all she can do is toss her head.

"Get me whatever," she says. Hotel food always ends up roughly tasting just like everything else, nothing too spectacular but nothing terrible. "No dessert, though." She doesn't add anything on to that, focusing on her guitar instead. It's already tuned, but she checks her strings again out of habit, making slight tweaks as she does.

"You know, there are better places to do this. Like the stadium tomorrow. Not a hotel room with other guests." The people on either side of her are part of the tour, she knows, but she does try to be respectful.