"I suppose there are always women so desperate for a taste of fame that they'll crawl for it," Satoru sighs, rolling her eyes dramatically. Satoru drops her weight rather than following the momentum, so she ends up draped over Suguru's shoulder like an oversized cat, feet still on the floor.

"Hm. No." Satoru straightens up, primly retracting her hand, and decides to resume her initial plan of seeming disaffected. She goes to the bed and drapes lazily across it, leaning back on her elbows, not bothering with any particular grace. "What else have you got, Suguru? You talked such a big game. Did these 'brats' of yours actually resist or is it just that you've only ever been able to lure the weak-willed?"