He only half-heartedly makes the expected face at the returned pseudo-endearment, more instinctive than real irritation. He'll maintain to his grave that he doesn't deserve retaliation for the formal address that he was taught by older cousins who were supposed to be responsible, though he's also fully aware that he has no excuse now not to use the correct title. The question makes his face twist more genuinely, however briefly, into something more wry.

"Hardly," he says. "Itachi's schedule is too unpredictable these days to anticipate, even if I had any idea what it was."

If there's an unhappy mixture of irritation and gratitude for that this month in particular, he ignores it in favour of leaning back in his chair and narrowing his eyes at her state. There aren't visible injuries that he can see, which isn't itself any viable reason to assume good health. That she's wolfing down noodles and not at the hospital is ... well, given how long Ayane has been a shinobi, also not particularly good evidence of no injury.

"Did you check in with the hospital before coming here?" It's the most effort he can put into implying you look like crap without simply saying it.