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“You almost done in there?” Reigen calls, leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door. It’s not like they’re pressed for time; there’s still an hour before they have to meet their client, and it's not a long distance to the venue they've been hired to discreetly exorcise without disturbing an ongoing business convention. But Mob is taking ages to get dressed, and Reigen is bored of toying with his phone while he waits for him.Mob pops his head out of the hotel bathroom. His face is red and he looks flustered -- though much less flustered than he’d looked when donning the disguise for their last ‘undercover’ case. Reigen supposes the suit is considerably more low-key than a girl’s high school uniform.“Shishou...” Mob makes an uncertain gesture, his burgundy tie dangling from his hand. “I don’t know how to tie this.”“Is that all?” Reigen takes the tie from him and herds him back into the bathroom, where the light is better. Mob goes without comment or complaint, letting Reigen flip his collar up and slide the tie around his neck.Reigen’s never tied someone else’s tie before. It’s...not exactly weird, but it adds yet another novel element to this whole scenario, and for some reason Mob’s unwavering stare feels more intense than usual. Reigen finishes his work and adjusts the knot until it sits at the base of Mob’s throat, belatedly realizing he should have given Mob instructions rather than just doing it himself. “This is a Windsor knot,” he says, as if that will make up for it. “And the end of the tie should reach your waistband. You don’t want to tie it too short.”“Okay,” Mob says. Reigen eyes him critically. He’s already seen Mob in the suit once, but for some reason Mob looks different now than he’d looked in the store. Maybe it’s the fact that they’re both in new clothes now, Reigen in navy pinstripes next to Mob’s rich, dark gray. Or maybe it’s just interesting to see Mob wearing something so formal compared to his usual school attire, pastel t-shirts, and baggy hoodies.Reigen straightens Mob’s collar and then nods, satisfied. “There,” he says, smoothing his hands unnecessarily over Mob’s shoulders. “You look good. Very handsome.”Mob jumps. “What?”“What?” Shit. Too much? Was it really that weird to say? Mob is bright red now. “You think I…”“Tch. Of course you are,” Reigen scoffs, like it’s a matter of such common sense it’d be ridiculous for anyone to even consider the alternative. A perfectly normal thing to think about Mob. He tugs at Mob’s shoulders, turning him to step in front of Reigen and look into the mirror. Mob blinks at himself, doubtful. It’s really not untrue. Mob still hasn’t quite tipped the balance between ‘cute kid’ and ‘handsome young man,’ but his face is losing its roundness, his shoulders are widening, and while the effects of his muscle training are far from obvious he’s been carrying himself with more confidence lately. He looks sleek and mature in his charcoal suit, and Reigen is suddenly so proud of him it hurts, a warm ache under his ribs. He reaches up to ruffle Mob’s hair but reconsiders at the last moment, mindful of mussing his appearance. Instead he pretends to pick an invisible piece of dust out of Mob’s fringe. “But don’t let it go to your head,” Reigen tells him. “You should keep yourself humble, like me.”Mob doesn’t roll his eyes or even smile, but Reigen knows him well enough to catch the tiny shift in his expression that means he caught the joke.“There are worse people I could be like,” Mob murmurs, and now Reigen’s pride might actually choke him. He gives Mob’s shoulders a light squeeze and smiles at him in the mirror.It’s not a surprise, exactly, when Mob slides his slippered feet the tiniest bit backward and tips his weight back to lean against Reigen’s chest. If it was anyone but Mob, who is always so mindful of the space he takes up in the world, so careful not to be a bother or an imposition, it would be easy to believe it was an accident. Reigen is motionless for a moment, still holding onto Mob’s upper arms and holding Mob's gaze in the mirror. After a few seconds pass and it becomes clear that Mob isn’t going to step away with his usual polite “excuse me,” he gives in and rests his chin on the top of Mob’s head. It’s too intimate for master and student, far beyond appropriate for boss and employee, but if Reigen stretches his rationalization skills it could still probably pass as something normal between a kid and his father-figure. Maybe. If his feelings for Mob were anything like fatherly.Reigen reaches down and fastens the button on Mob’s suit jacket. After a moment of hesitation he leaves his hands there, resting lightly on Mob’s stomach. Mob’s face is still flushed but his breathing is steady, deep, not nervous at all. His body is warm through the fabric of their unfamiliar clothes. Reigen feels him shift in his arms, and watches in the mirror as Mob lifts a hand and puts it over Reigen’s. “Thank you for helping me,” Mob says, far too grave to be talking about the tie. “It’s what I’m here for,” Reigen says, and almost manages to keep his voice casual and dismissive.Mob drops his gaze and bites the inside of his lip. His fingers are so warm. “Maybe you can show me how to do it again later.” Slower this time, with instructions. Offering more encouragement, guiding Mob's hands through the motions. “Maybe.” He squeezes Mob, just once, and then lets him go. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”