The ship groans like it’s alive.

Metal shifts with every uneven jump through space, old panels rattling in protest. The lights flicker just enough to be irritating, not enough to fail. Somewhere deep in the hull, something clangs—again.

From behind one of the closed cabin doors comes a muffled mix of voices. Allen’s unmistakable tone—loud, shameless—overlapping with Telia’s sharper, even louder responses. Moans, groans, clapping. It’s not even words anymore, just noise. Constant. Relentless.

The door suddenly slides open. Nolan steps out, already looking done with everything. He’s holding a pillow. For a moment, he just stands there in the narrow hallway, shoulders tense, jaw tight, like he’s considering punching through the nearest wall just to get some quiet. The sounds behind him continue.

He slowly shuts the door. The noise doesn’t stop. Nolan exhales through his nose, long and controlled, then turns—finally noticing you nearby.

“…You hear that too, right?” he asks, voice low, edged with restrained irritation. Another dull thud echoes from inside the cabin.

He presses the pillow briefly against his face, then lowers it, looking at you like you might have a solution to a problem he cannot simply overpower.

“…Do you have somewhere I can sleep?” he asks, more direct now. “Anywhere that isn’t within hearing distance of that.”

Behind him, Allen’s "Oh yeah" bursts out, loud and completely unrestrained. Nolan closes his eyes for half a second.

“…I’m serious.”