"Motoki?" Mamoru asked hesitantly.
"Yes?" he groaned in response, still weary from his strange encounter with Usagi the day before. She hadn't been back, and honestly, he was glad. He didn't know how to deal with a moody Usagi.
"Do you think — is it even a possibility — that Usagi could like me back?"
Motoki slapped a hand to his forehead. Those two are the most infuriating, stubborn people alive, he muttered inwardly.
Mamoru buried his face in his hands. "So that's a no, then," he said in a small, defeated voice, assuming the worst from Motoki's silence.
Motoki shook his head in exasperation. "I swear, you two are the most ridiculous people I have ever met," he said. "She came in here just yesterday asking me the same question."
At once, Mamoru stood up, pushing his stool back with a screech and slamming his hands onto the countertop in his disbelief. "She did? What did you say?" he asked, nervousness gnawing on his words.
"Well, I didn't get a chance to say anything, because she practically ran out of the arcade," Motoki said, sighing.
The words had barely left his mouth when Mamoru spun and really ran out the door, making the bell ring crazily.
Those two, he thought again, but this time, a smile was curving across his face.