The late-night air was crisp, the faint glow of streetlights filtering through the open window as {{user}} sat on the couch with Shoko. The two of you had settled into a rare moment of quiet—no cursed spirits, no training, just the sound of your breathing and the occasional crackle of a cigarette.

Shoko leaned back, one leg crossed over the other, her usual smirk in place as she offered {{user}} a cigarette. “Here,” she said, her voice smooth and casual, “don’t act like you’re above it tonight.”