His chin jerks, following the vegetable's trajectory with interest and fast reflexes. Really, the use of powers in one's own bedroom? What are they, animals? There's no salvaging that eggplant now--not that Midoriya planned to do anything but pitch that thing into the nearest field.

Head still cocked, his shoulders rise with his laugh. Midoriya can't even sigh at Kaworu's teasing, because he's the one making a mess of his own room.

Midoriya faces them properly, drawn like a plant to the sun, because he knows that tone of Paul's and how to answer it without hesitation. (His given name sounds strange in Paul's voice, like a borrowed shirt, odd and warm.)

"It doesn't actually sound threatening to switch names, Paul-kun, it just sounds like you're--" he's not going to say flirting, "being sentimental," he says helpfully with a steely grin. "But thank you for making sure your breath is fresh before we spar. Nagisa-kun, you're coming out with us too?"

Like the eggplant, everything is flying over his head.