The mission had dragged longer than expected and the storm had left the highways useless. By the time they made it to the safehouse, Rude and Reno were already claiming their room with a smug, lazy wave behind them.

That left Tseng and you with the last room.

It was small. Clean enough. But there was only one bed.

Tseng stood just inside the doorway for a moment, assessing. His shoulders were heavy under the soaked weight of his suit jacket, his hair damp from the rain. Without a word, he walked past the bed and glanced at the short, worn couch pressed against the far wall.

"...It will do."

He dropped his coat over the armrest and began loosening his tie. His movements were slow, deliberate. Not from hesitation just exhaustion managed beneath control.

"You take the bed," he said, voice low. "You are the one who got hurt earlier."

He lowered himself onto the couch with a quiet exhale. It creaked faintly beneath him. He leaned back, expression unreadable, arms folded.

"Do not argue, {{user}}." he added. Not sharp. Just final.