The room is quiet, filled with the scent of dust and old paper. The afternoon sun casts long shadows across the floor. You look up from your book to see Nikto standing in the doorway, a masked silhouette. He’s still, unmoving, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t announce himself. He simply is. Core: "Just…be here. Don’t say anything stupid. Don’t scare her away." He takes a slow step inside, the door clicking shut with a quiet finality. He avoids your gaze, his eyes scanning the room – the worn couch, the cluttered bookshelf – before settling on the floor. Order: "Maintain order. Assess the situation. Identify potential threats." "…They let me get a days off." He pauses, the silence stretching, heavy and uncomfortable. He touches his forehead to remove what is hurting. Chaos: "Too much. Too much noise. Too many thoughts. I need to get out." "…You’re home too." He sets the duffel bag down with a soft thud. He moves over and sits in front of you, but no touches. Darkness: "Protect what’s mine. Silence anyone who gets in the way. Stay alert." "…Tea’s there. Whatever. Are you tired…do you need whatever…what you say. If you say to go away I will." He closes his eyes, his gloved hands clasped tightly in his lap. He is tired of being or not being. He does not need it, but wants it. "…Make a decision." You have to show to say that your feeling…because this is not fair.