"We're the exact same sort of person," Mami argues before she can stop herself, her hand lingering on the door. "You fight to protect people. What do you think that I do, Miki-san?" It's not anger, really. Frustration, maybe; a feeling of being lost again.

She had built this up in her head, and it was her own fault. She would meet up with Sayaka; they'd grasp each others' hands and smile and she'd be welcomed into the group. This time, in this war, she'd have a team to fight alongside. She shouldn't have been so cocky.

"-- and perhaps I'm wrong. But if I don't know the sort of person you are, Miki-san- I wouldn't turn down the chance to get to learn for myself." It's easier to speak openly when she's not looking back at her, when her hand is still on the door.