Oh, gross. Haruto makes a face, and leans kind of gratefully away with the impact of Nitoh's fist to his shoulder. Everything seems a little more hopeful today, six months of spinning his wheels buoyed up by a warm sense of accomplishment.

"Well, of course I did," he says. He still feels like he works better alone--he knows his own abilities and limitations better than he can hope to understand Nitoh's weird combination of abilities, never mind the mana sharing aspect. "You as my wingman, huh?" He seems to consider it, leaning his chin on the table and eyeing Nitoh up and down. "They wouldn't have stood a chance," he settles on. Fighting alone, that he prefers, but he's grown used to Nitoh's attitude and his upbeat cheer.