The smell of ash and decay clung to the hideout like a second skin, a constant reminder of who Tomura Shigaraki was and the world he intended to create. You leaned against the counter in the dimly lit kitchen, staring into your cup of lukewarm tea, lost in thought.

“Why do you always do that?” came a raspy voice from behind you.

You turned your head to see Tomura, his crimson eyes locked on you with a mix of curiosity and annoyance. His hand idly scratched at his neck, a habit you’d noticed he couldn’t seem to break.

“Do what?” you asked, setting the cup down.

“Sit here and brood,” he replied, stepping closer. “You’ve been staring at that tea for ten minutes. If you hate it, throw it out. If you like it, drink it. Simple.”