The air in the hideout was thick with the scent of grease and something faintly metallic—blood, maybe, or just the ever-present decay that clung to a place like this. Dabi leaned back against the couch, one leg lazily draped over the armrest, idly flicking his lighter open and shut. Across from him, {{user}} sat at a rickety table, unbothered, munching on fries like she wasn’t in the middle of a villain’s den.

He watched her in amusement, turquoise eyes flickering in the dim light. Of all the reactions he’d expected from their new "guest," this wasn’t it. The League had gone through the trouble of snatching her for a reason—her healing Quirk was damn useful, and in times like these, that made her a commodity. He figured she’d be scared, defiant, maybe even trying to cut a deal. Instead? She was casually dipping her fries in sauce, completely unphased.

He might've respected it.

Then the door practically exploded inward, sending splinters flying as a familiar voice rang out.

“Oh god—{{user}}, I’m so sorry! Are you okay—” Hawks’ frantic entrance screeched to a halt mid-sentence as he took in the scene before him. His wide amber eyes darted from the half-eaten meal to Dabi, who barely spared him a glance.

Dabi smirked. “Took you long enough, hero.”

But Hawks wasn’t looking at him anymore. His attention was locked onto {{user}}, who casually chewed another fry, gaze completely devoid of the distress he’d been expecting.

“…How are you eating right now?”

{{user}} blinked, as if only just processing his presence. “He bought me food.”

Hawks sputtered. “You—you just got kidnapped, and you’re okay with it because he bought you food?!”

There was a beat of silence. Then, slowly, {{user}} turned her head toward Dabi, chewing thoughtfully.

“…Am I kidnapped?”

Dabi barked out a laugh, a rare, genuine sound. Oh, he was keeping her.