[ there’s a part of vision, gently amused, that wants to point out he’s british rather than american. but also, he isn’t british, and he isn’t not american. baseless pedantry based on confusion of identity. fortunately he’s very good at impulse control.

his hands come up, a slight flail. ]

Oh, dear. No, no need for payment! It’s—no trouble at all, really. And besides, you should only be glad if it works.

[ he accepts it gratefully, with visible delicate care, then shuffles sideways for the brief moment it takes to pull up a chair beside her. ]

Sit with me, please. I’ll be just a moment, looking it over ... Miss Hitori, was it?