He notices Mikazuki turn away, sparing a few seconds to try and think of something to say before crumpling up the notion and discarding it altogether. The helmet is polished, the crescent upon it gleaming bright gold and unscratched from a single battle -

- he abruptly slams the box lid down, gently, but the barely restrained force behind the gesture is evident by the double click of the clasp being twisted shut.

"... I think we should put it back."