Midousuji emerges, skin still feeling almost a bit sore from the chill in places—but Ishigaki's pajamas do help overall. Even though they're a couple inches short, which Midousuji admired between a couple snickering poses. At least the shirt is long enough to cover his belly, but if Midousuji lifts his arms, it exposes him nearly all the way to his ribs. But it will do—especially under a kotatsu.

He blinks at the tea, but doesn't comment; it's what you'd expect from a boy raised in Kyoto for a guest...but still, for some reason, Midousuji likes it. He wordlessly and without expression goes to settle under the kotatsu, and finds immediate ecstasy in the relief the warmth brings; his eyes close straight down their centers as his the warmth spreads and his temperature adjusts.

Then he cracks an eye open as Ishigaki speaks. When he mentions rules, both eyes open, and Midousuji tilts his head, peering owlishly through their edges as he stares at Ishigaki. Midousuji is petulant, and far from obedient—he hates to be challenged, and Ishigaki was never an authority to him, even as a captain. Of course, all this is still true—but...the context has...ah.

Altered.

Clearly, Midousuji went a bit too far. Midousuji stares, expressionless, his gears turning. Does he push harder? Does he rescind? Even if it is Ishigaki's home, Midousuji can't simply apologize and obey like a normal person. Even though Midousuji does like when Ishigaki gets firm and stands his ground, as much as it irritates him.

Midousuji squints.

"Sure, sure," he suddenly obliges, smiling wide just as abruptly. "Your hallway. Got it. So sorry, so sorry."

He likes it a lot.

"And what of the rest of your apartment, then?"