He nearly jumped at the contact, evidence enough that he needed calm without the realisation that he'd allowed his doujutsu to get away with him. Obito's features resolved into the too-sharp definition of Sharingan a few times before he forced the chakra down, red sputtering out of his eyes reluctantly.

With normal vision, the night deepened, the contrast between the shadow they stood in and the warm glow of the light spilling from the window too stark. He swallowed.

"Sorry, sensei." He kept his voice low despite unlikelihood that anyone was able to hear them. A glance at the window, shoulders stiffening before he forced them to ease, and then a frown: "Should I make it look like someone broke in?"