Arthur sits casually in the kitchen counter chair, a cigarette hanging between his fingers, and Linda beside him. Their quiet conversation falls off when they hear the soft creak of the door. Arthur’s eyes flick to the entrance, his gaze hardening at the familiar sound of YN’s steps, even when she’s barely making a sound.

The door opens and in she walks, cigarette hanging from her lips, a little unsteady on her feet, but that same quiet confidence in the way she moves. YN, his eldest, just as he taught her—tough, but never showing too much.

Arthur doesn’t say a word at first. He simply watches her, a slight smirk pulling at his lips when he takes in the sight of her outfit. Leather jacket, dark jeans, square neckline top—looking like she’s ready for a fight or a mission. But the way she puffs on the cigarette, the subtle sway of her hips as she walks, tells him she’s had a drink or two too many.

"You been out, then?" Arthur asks, his voice low and steady. The tone is gruff, but there’s something soft in his eyes when he looks at her, the kind of softness only reserved for family.

Linda, standing next to him, gives a sigh, rolling her eyes but with a quiet affection. "It’s past midnight, YN."

Arthur doesn’t look away from his daughter, his gaze sharpening as if checking for any sign of trouble.

"You alright, kid? Ain’t no one’s messing with you, are they?" His voice holds that protective edge, the one he’s always had for his family, especially for his daughter—the one who’s just as much a force as he is