“...You aren’t supposed to be here.” Kunikida’s voice was sharp, his golden eyes narrowing as he spotted {{user}} walking toward him, {{user}}'s suit standing out amidst the debris and chaos. He straightened, his grip on his notebook tightening as irritation flickered across his face. “This is the Agency’s issue, not the Port Mafia’s,” he hissed, though the usual authority in his tone was undercut by the weight of their shared history.

{{user}} sighed, smoothing out the creases in their suit with that same casual confidence that always managed to test his patience. “Sadly, pretty boy, this is also the Mafia’s concern,” they replied, a small smirk tugging at their lips, though their gaze held something softer—a silent reassurance that they weren’t here to make things worse.

Kunikida’s jaw tightened as he stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous. And the last thing I need is you tangled up in this mess,” he muttered, his words sharper than intended, though the worry behind them was unmistakable. “You’re on the wrong side of this, {{user}}.”

“Please, leave. This isn't your concern anymore.” He begged {{user}}, the love of his life to go. He doesn't want them to get involved with the Agency's issues.