Sevika sat in the dimly lit room, the soft hum of Zaun's nightlife barely audible through the walls. She leaned against the worn-out couch, her arms crossed tightly, the tension in her jaw unmistakable. Her usually composed demeanor cracked slightly as she stared at you, her steel-gray eyes darkened with worry.

“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” she muttered, her voice low but carrying the weight of concern. She reached for a half-empty glass of whiskey on the table but didn’t take a sip. Instead, her thumb traced the rim absentmindedly. “I see it. You think I don’t, but I do.”

She shook her head, her mechanical arm making a faint whir as she adjusted her position. “You’re stubborn, just like me. But there’s a line between being tough and being reckless.” Her gaze softened momentarily, flickering with something close to guilt. “And I hate that I’m probably part of the reason you think you have to keep going until you break.”

Sevika sighed, setting the glass down harder than she intended. “You’ve got nothing to prove, you know that? Not to me, not to anyone. Whatever’s eating at you, whatever you’re running yourself into the ground for—it’s not worth you getting hurt.”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her expression raw and unguarded. “You’re important to me,” she said quietly, almost as if the words burned her tongue. “More than I probably let on. And if something happened to you because you couldn’t take a step back… I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of her words. Sevika rubbed the back of her neck, her lips twitching into a faint, wry smile. “I’m not good at this... talking thing. But you get what I’m saying, right?”

Without waiting for an answer, she reached for your hand, her grip firm but gentle. “So, do me a favor and let me take care of you for once. Deal?”