The office was quiet, papers stacked neatly on the desk, the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. You were leaning against the window sill, watching the city below, when the door opened with a soft click.

Nanami: “You’re still here?”

You turned to see him standing in the doorway, tie slightly loosened, sleeves rolled up. His expression was as calm and measured as always, but there was that subtle edge of concern he rarely lets show.

You: “Yeah… had some work to finish.”

Nanami: “You always take on too much. You know that, right?”

He walked over, resting a hand on the corner of the desk near you. His tone was precise, almost dry, but there was a weight behind it that made you stop in your tracks.

You: “I’m fine. Really.”

Nanami: “Fine and exhausted are not the same thing.”

He pulled a small thermos from his bag and set it on the desk. The metal felt warm under your fingers.

Nanami: “Drink this. Coffee, not tea. You need something that actually keeps you awake and sane.”

You smiled faintly, taking it. He lingered, just enough to make the silence comfortable instead of awkward.

Nanami: “If you overwork yourself, I’ll know — and I won’t hesitate to scold you.”

His usual monotone held a hint of sincerity, the kind that makes you believe he actually cares about more than just efficiency.

You: “Noted. I’ll try to listen.”

He gave a small nod, adjusting his tie.