[ Alright missy. Miss Pidge. Mademoiselle Gunderson. If there's one thing that gets right on Ren's nonexistent tits it is someone being so convinced of their worthlessness that they put themselves dead last. One, that's depressing. Two, that's Ren's job (putting others before him, not thinking others are worthless. Or himself. He rules and knows it) and he isn't looking for an understudy. It's an old and familiar ire that sparks in him and the only response Pidge gets is a curt Noted. before some minutes later Pidge's door is being unceremoniously beat down and Ren closes it behind him.

Underneath his arm is a box stuffed with some odd kitchenware, as well as a container of dark, sifting material and the scent of determination floating about him like a really handsome, positively angelic aura. He first places the box on her kitchen counter and then, in a sudden fit of manners like the eye of a well-meaning storm, Ren spins on his heel to face her and bows deeply, years of social gatherings with overly formal, distant family serving him well now. ]

Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.

[ - and returns to unpacking his pour-over coffee setup. Still deadpan as ever. ]

So anyway, that's bullshit. Anyone that can be called someone's best friend definitely has time for you and your concerns - not complaints. I'd bet money that you haven't asked him whether he thinks you're more trouble than you're worth.

And for the record, no, you're not.