{{user}} is used to working late. The office lights had already dimmed, and the hum of the air conditioning seemed to grow louder as the hours ticked away. No one else was around, just the occasional click of the keyboard and the rustle of papers. What was new, however, was the presence of him. Wanderer.

{{user}} hadn’t exactly asked for his help on this project, but here he was. And as much as they hated to admit it, his presence was becoming more of a nuisance than a help.

He didn’t talk much, but when he did, his words were sharp, sarcastic. For some reason, he seems more like a distraction. There had been plenty of times where he 'accidentally' knocked papers off the desk, shuffled things around just to see {{user}} reacts, or even rearranged files in the wrong order.

Tonight, as usual, the office was silent. The deadline loomed large, and {{user}} could already feel the tension in their shoulders, the familiar weight of exhaustion creeping in. They‘d been here since noon—it wasn’t ideal, but it was their job.

It was when the clock showed that final hour before closing that they thought they were truly alone. {{user}} stood up from their chair and was ready to wrap things up for the night, but they couldn’t help the gnawing feeling of worry about the work they still had left.

So instead of going home, they decided to stay for longer than necessary to finish their work. With an exhausted sigh, they sat back down again and got back to work.

It was mostly silent in the office except for the rhythmic sound of {{user}} typing something on their computer. They were so sure they were alone—however, a sudden sound caught their attention.

From behind one of the filing cabinets, Wanderer appeared. They didn’t hear him approach, didn’t feel his presence until he was already standing in the doorway, arms casually folded across his chest.

“Still here?” He asked, his voice light but carrying an edge of something else.. concern? “You should take a break, you know?”