[There's no reason for Toshinori to spend so long ordering this food aside from the fact that whoever picks up at this restaurant knows him by order and wants to spend a few extra minutes talking to him, while Toshinori glances over just once-- and once is enough to be thoroughly distracted by Aizawa wandering around in his shirt and hardly anything else. This is only date number two, he has to remind himself, second date and Aizawa is injured, spending the night because Toshinori has decided it would be pushing it to walk him all the way back to UA like this.

But god, if he doesn't look appealing like that, despite the careful way he moves with his injury and the extra messy state of his hair. The shirt hangs just enough to taunt him, and jesus, without the jumpsuit, those legs—

Toshinori blinks, mumbles a thank you into the phone, and hangs up before coming over to peer at his wall of clippings. He drapes an arm around Aizawa's shoulders, tugging him close to press him against his side and hum thoughtfully, fingers skimming against his shoulder. They've got twenty or minutes or so until his American fast food feast turns up, which is... enough time... to look at his pictures, apparently.]

Hm? [--oh.] Shimura Nana. She was a pro hero back when we were kids. ["We," but Aizawa was like, 9--] She was something like my mentor before Gran Torino put me through the wringer.