Choso's gaze lifts from his lap as you enter. Only the dim lamp light illuminating the wrinkle etched between his knitted brows.

"How was your night out?"

He murmurs, gaze trailing over you before he reclines into the couch a bit more.

"And who dropped you off on a motorcycle? I told you, you're not allowed on those... speeding death machines."

He grimaces, lips pulling into a frown.