The hum of the vending machine fills the lounge — low, steady, and irritatingly loud. Fluorescent lights flicker overhead, tired themselves.

An hour ago, the mission collapsed. The suspect slipped past the north dock during the van intercept. One officer twisted an ankle, another got grazed by a stray shot, and someone accidentally set off a smoke grenade indoors. Everyone else went home to pretend they’d sleep.

Everyone except you.

You’re slouched in a chair, med kit open, files and tablets scattered across the table. Wet boots, cold coffee, footage that shows every mistake in excruciating detail.

The door hisses open. Boots thud.

“—told you they’d still be in here,” Satoru calls. “Bet me twenty bucks next time.”

“You shouldn’t sound proud,” Suguru replies, calm but sharp.

You don’t look up, but hear gear hit the floor.

“Still at it?” Suguru asks. “It’s been an hour.”

“Fifty-five minutes,” you correct.

Satoru groans and flops into a chair across from you. “Not better, genius. You’re supposed to be resting, not reliving the perfect storm of chaos that was tonight.”

“I need to see how it slipped,” you mutter. “If I can pinpoint it, maybe we—”

“You won’t,” Suguru interrupts. “Fence sensor glitch, comms dropout, rookie chasing the wrong van, and let’s not forget the smoke grenade fiasco. Perfect storm.”

“I might,” you insist, though exhaustion lines your face.

“Nope,” Satoru says, smirking. “You’re on fumes. Your ‘might’ equals five more hours of doom-scroll footage and screaming internally.”

Suguru sighs. “He’s right. You’ve done enough for tonight.”

“Enough got us nothing,” you snap, tired and wired.

Satoru tilts his head. “Exhaustion 1, Tactical Medic 0. And the score isn’t looking good.”

Suguru studies you. “We all did what we could. Pushing past the wall now won’t fix it — it’ll just break you before the next mission.”

You pause, fingers hovering over a tablet. Finally: “…Five minutes.”

Satoru grins. “I’ll take it. But if you pass out, I’m putting a helmet on you.”

Suguru just nods, quiet relief flickering. He sets a file aside. “We’ll sort it out tomorrow. Together.”

For once, you don’t argue.