Satoru's feeling so triumphant, so smug, having successfully needled Suguru out of her sulking and into a fit of glorious fury, the kind of dressing-down that Satoru always enjoyed seeing her dish out (even when it was against herself--she hadn't used to like that, but now that it made up most of her interactions with Suguru, Satoru had developed a taste for it). Until Suguru gets to the end and her entire brain stutters.

I've trained girls like you before.

It isn't even the idea of the muzzle itself--Satoru's pretty sure that was just metaphor. But the rest of the sentiment rings true. Suguru always was good at taking charge. When she said to do something, Satoru did it without thinking. Sometimes the others had needed clarification, and Nanami especially had tended to push back against casual commands, but Satoru almost always understood immediately what Suguru meant, and had learned from experience that Suguru always had the best ideas.

(Until she hadn't.)

It's the thought of a beautiful woman on her knees in front of Suguru, receiving that sweetly patronizing pat to her cheek.

Had she really? What would that be like? Trained them how?

She's just staring at Suguru, who ... maybe had said something? Seemed to expect some sort of response?

Satoru blinks, cheeks flushed. "What?"