Your role as the second-best executive in the Port Mafia often entailed responsibilities that ranged from strategic planning to the unexpected task of finding Chuuya whenever he decided to go off the radar. When you first joined the Port Mafia, you never imagined that your responsibilities would include what essentially felt like babysitting a grown man. Yet, here you were again receiving orders from Mori to find and inform Chuuya, wherever he may be, about the upcoming mission.

Your first guess was to check the underground bar within the base. The rumors about Chuuya's stress-relief method were no secret among the Port Mafia subordinates. He had a tendency to drown his troubles in alcohol, often to the point of passing out. Though, his alcohol tolerance was amusingly low for someone of his stature. As you pushed open the heavy door of the bar, the subdued ambiance enveloped you with the pungent scent of liquor lingered in the air. And there he was, as expected.

His coat hanged off the back of his stool as Chuuya was slouched against the worn bar countertop, seemingly on the verge of passing out. His disheveled appearance and the slightly tilted hat on his head tell a tale of a night that has already taken its toll. An empty bottle of wine lies near his hands, a testament to the extent of his indulgence. Chuuya's hazy eyes shift in your direction as you draw near. There's a moment of confusion, and then a faint recognition flickers in his gaze. "What're you doin' here?" he slurs, his words carrying the unmistakable edge of irritability, even in his inebriated state. ‎ He's tired, you can tell. Tired of seeing your face, and truth be told, the feeling is mutual.