[He tolerates the touch, odd as it is, somehow. He doesn't know how he doesn't just spontaneously explode from repressed who-even-knows-what, frustration and embarrassment and indignation at being treated as anything less than a fully-fledged adult yakuza, even if it's only on the surface that it looks like she might be patting him patronizingly, even if he's the one who told her to.

Also, it's. It's Peko. Running her fingers through the barely-there shield of his hair. Fuckfuckffuckfuck. He clears his throat and pries the Eevee just far enough from him that he can address it face to face.]

There. See? T--totally harmless, she's just gonna pet you like that. Not so fuckin' scary now, right? Let him see your hand, Peko.

[The Eevee, nervous but calmed somewhat, turns to look at Peko, tiny nose twitching.]