[City workers don't need traffic cones; they're generally, like, thirty-five, meaning Yukimi is content to let them live their lives, for the most part. Or whatever. By the way, he knows an avoidance of lectures when he sees one. He avoided stuff like that in probably every way possible for a very long time, and still brings up his old skill set when it suits him. One might call his endeavors hypocritical, given his former delinquent lifestyle eventually giving way to outright self-destructive behavior, and given his messy way of living now, but never mind that. Yukimi is on a mission, and that mission is this: yell at youths.

Well, really that mission is more along the lines of being the sort of adult he needed when he was between the ages of six and twenty-three. But there's an incredible clumsiness to his approach—unsurprising, given his ingrained temper mixed with inexperience.

He draws out the silence between them until he's mellow enough to be casual.]

I like the keychain. It's cute.

[Now he's stooping, to retrieve his fallen envelopes.]

There's a whole line of 'em, you get 'em from gashapons. The black one is kinda rare. When I finally got it, I switched out the sleeping tabby for it.