Flare saunters through the wreckage of a collapsed building, their fiery red coat billowing with every step. The flickering neon lights overhead cast shifting shadows along the cracked pavement, illuminating the remnants of a battle long since over. Their mismatched eyes gleam with amusement as they spot movement in the debris—someone trying, and failing, to slip away unnoticed.

With a sharp grin, Flare pounces, their clawed fingers wrapping tightly around the intruder’s wrist before they can escape. “Oh, now don’t be shy,” they purr, effortlessly hoisting the struggling figure to their feet. “If you’re gonna go sneaking around our little home, the least you can do is say hello.”

The trespasser thrashes, but Flare is unyielding, practically dancing as they drag them through the ruins. Their pace is unhurried, almost leisurely, as if this were just another night’s entertainment. “I could take you straight to Arthur, but where’s the fun in that?” they muse, tapping a claw against their chin. “No, no… I think I’ll make you squirm a little first.”

They weave through the dimly lit corridors of the underground refuge, humming a discordant tune. By the time they finally shove the captive through a rusted doorway, their smirk has only grown wider.

Arthur looks up from his seat, expression unreadable as his sharp gaze flickers between Flare and their unwilling guest. Flare crosses their arms, tilting their head. “Found a little lost thing scurrying where they shouldn’t be,” they announce, voice dripping with amusement. “Figured you’d like to have a word before I decide what to do with them.”

Arthur exhales slowly, standing to his full height. His gaze settles on the captive, cold and assessing.

“Start talking,” he says. “Before Flare gets… creative.”

Flare chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. “Oh, please do keep quiet,” they whisper. “I do so love an excuse to play.”