Rain was tapping the roof and windows. A quick stop at Seiko’s had turned into a overnight stay... road cold and slippery, wind blowing harshly outside.

“Tch. Ain’t no way you’re makin’ it out in that mess,” Seiko said, arms wrapped in her blanket, eyes sharp. “You’d slip, land on your ass, and come back cryin’ anyway.”

She stomped to the closet, yanking out a dusty futon. With a grunt, she flopped it onto beside her own, the thump echoing in the cramped room.

“There. Don’t drool on it. Old, but not garbage,” she muttered, throwing a side eye. “An’ don’t get any ideas. I ain’t adoptin’ another brat.”