Another denizen of the corridors late at night, although Mamoru does not look like he has a need for sleep - hair still damp after quick practice and a shower, he actually looks fresh-faced. While most recruits have trouble getting enough sleep, he has perfected the art of the cat nap since he was a child, leaning against any corner and getting some quick shut-eye.

He almost did not recognize her. No mask, no ANZAC uniform, no flame-thrower. It's her voice that makes him slow down his stride towards the kitchen. He assumes she probably doesn't know who he is, either, with the gas mask off as well.

While he isn't really able to see the flames, he can't help but agree, the warmth, the dry but not too harsh air that surrounds a fireplace or a bonfire. However, he can't help but snort at sensing a pattern. "'know a couple of people at a beach who'd beg to differ."