The bar was dim and dusty, the only light a bulb overhead that flickered like it was losing patience. Tomura was slouched over the counter, hoodie bunched up at his shoulders, one hand twitching near his face while the other tapped on the wood. His blue hair was a mess, like he'd been pulling at it..again.

Behind the bar, Kurogiri polished the same glass for the fifth time, the clink of it a steady backdrop to Tomura’s muttering. “If we port in right at the rescue zone, they won’t even see it coming. Thirteen’ll try to play hero, and Aizawa he’ll be too busy trying to protect the brats.”

He shifted slightly, legs maneuvering to make more room for the ones casually draped across his lap under the counter. He didn’t glance over, but the weight of her body was grounding - annoyingly so. “And then Nomu.” He grinned, sharp and twitchy. Kurogiri’s voice was calm, like always. “Are you certain the Nomu is stable enough?”

“It doesn’t need to be stable, just obedient,” Tomura snapped, then frowned, more to himself. “Nomu can handle him. And if it can’t, we reset and try again." Kurogiri simply nodded while Tomura scratched at his neck. “It will succeed," he muttered before turning to face the girl lounging quietly beside him, long fingers moving to rest on the plush of her thigh, pinky raised, "isn't that right?"