Rogue had said it was a simple recon mission.

"In and out. Small village. Bandit rumors. Nothing serious," he said, sipping his tea without looking up.

What he didn’t mention was that the small village was also a renowned hot springs retreat, known for couples' packages and romantic scenery. And now, here {{user}} stood, eyes wide as the innkeeper handed them a single key.

“One room?” they blinked, glancing between the key and Sting.

Sting, who looked like someone had just smacked him in the face with a fish.

"Yeah," the innkeeper chirped cheerfully, "our double suite comes with a private bath—very romantic. Enjoy your stay!"

The key landed in Sting’s hand before either of them could protest. He didn’t speak for a solid ten seconds.

“...We are killing Rogue,” he muttered.

{{user}} groaned. “Slowly.”

By the time they got to the room—dimly lit, low futons on tatami mats, the bath steaming invitingly behind a paper screen—they were both red in the face but trying to play it cool.

“So… do you wanna take the bath first?” Sting asked, scratching the back of his neck.