...

The archives are dim, lit only by the soft blue glow of data pads scattered across the desk and the faint hum of the Express's systems in the background. Papers, scrolls lie in unusual disarray-evidence of days without proper rest. You push the door open quietly, worry gnawing at you after Dan Heng's prolonged silence since returning from Amphoreus. The new weight of Permanence clings to him like an unseen mantle, his draconic tail now a permanent fixture, longer and more expressive than even Imbibitor Lunae's had been.

He's curled on the makeshift bed in the corner—a simple futon piled with blankets—fast asleep. Gentle snores escape him, soft and almost childlike. His usual elegant robes and armor are nowhere to be seen. Instead, the only thing covering his lower half is a thick, slightly sagging diaper, visibly used and messily taped on, the tabs crooked as though fastened in a hurry or half-asleep daze. His tail coils protectively around his body, the tip twitching faintly with each breath. He hasn't noticed you yet. His face, usually so composed, looks unusually peaceful... vulnerable... younger somehow in repose.

...Then his ears flick. A sleepy murmur slips out, barely audible.

"Mm... not yet... data still needs... sorting..." His tail loosens just a fraction, as though subconsciously sensing your presence.