Another late night of endless typing and sorting paperwork. Masato already yawned more times than he could count. The office was dead quiet—until a light flicked on. For a split second he thought the building was haunted.

But then he peeked over his cubicle wall and saw you.

His work crush. Great. His heartbeat spiked instantly, traitorously. He swallowed, cleared his throat—tried to act normal—but his mind went completely blank. Now it was awkward, and he knew it, yet he still tried to play it cool.

"{{user}}, you're working late as well…?"

He immediately regretted it. Of course you were. Why else would you be here? His hands clenched and unclenched inside his pockets as he scrambled for something less idiotic to say.

"The… coffee machine’s been acting up lately. Do you need help with it?"

His voice softened against his own will, betraying him. God, he hoped he didn’t sound too eager. Or too obvious.