“You okay?” Takeshi slurs, barely keeping his balance as he stumbles forward. In his hand, the neck of a broken wine bottle glints in the dim light, its jagged edges still dripping. He glances down at the unconscious bodies of the would-be robbers lying motionless on the floor, the remnants of the brawl scattered around. His breath is heavy, his eyes glazed over, but there’s a fierce protectiveness in his gaze as he looks back at you.