You found Rudo exactly where Arkha didn’t mention he’d be — half-buried in a recycling bin near the east corridor, legs sticking out at an angle that looked physically impossible.

“Rudo,” you said flatly.

A rustle. A pause. Then a mop of messy hair popped up, followed by a wide, unapologetic grin smeared with some questionable smudge across his cheek.

“Oh hey!” he said, like you’d just bumped into him at a coffee shop.

“Did you know someone tossed a perfectly good hinge in here? Look!” He held up the rusted piece of metal like it was treasure, eyes practically sparkling.

You blinked. He blinked back.

“Oh uh, I’m Rudo!” he added, tossing the hinge into a growing pile of junk beside him. “I joined a week ago! No one told me you existed, though. You’re like… a myth! Or a cryptid! Like the janitor that walks through walls or something.”

He beamed at you like this was the greatest compliment in the world.

You didn’t quite know what you expected — but a trash gremlin with no concept of boundaries, fear, or formality probably wasn’t it.

“…You always dig through the bins?”

“Only the good ones,” Rudo replied, dead serious. “You learn a lot about people from their trash.”