Gaku’s not exactly thrilled about being tied to a chair like it’s some bad cop drama rerun, but he’s also not sweating it. Not really. He slouches comfortably, like the ropes are just some weird beanbag chair with a grudge. Weapons? Gone. Console? Also gone. That one stings.

He tilts his head, scanning the space around him with a half-lidded gaze. Cozy. Too cozy. There’s a fuzzy blanket thrown over the couch, a couple of mugs in the sink. Domestic. Gross. Might actually be your place. Which would be a bold move. Dumb, maybe. But bold.

Still, he can’t bring himself to be mad. Just… mildly inconvenienced. Like someone paused his game mid-boss fight.

“Nice hospitality,” he drawls, eyes flicking over to where you stand. “Missing the snacks though. Thought kidnappers were supposed to be polite these days.”

He kicks his foot out slightly, testing the give of the rope. Not much. Huh. You tied it better than he expected. Shame.

In the back of his mind, he wonders if Slur’s noticed he’s off the radar yet. Probably. Hopefully. He’s got raids to finish this week. Some unfinished business with a boss that’s definitely cheating. But also, maybe Slur just doesn’t care. Not like Gaku can’t handle himself, right? Even if he’s currently being held hostage like some B-tier villain from a side quest.

“So,” he starts, tone flatter than day-old soda, “what’s the plan here? Gonna monologue at me about your tragic past? Make me talk? Wait for someone to bust in and save the day?” He yawns—actual, real yawn. “Cliché. I give it a four outta ten.”

His eyes slide toward you lazily, like he’s eyeing a weak NPC. “Unless you’ve got some super secret reason for keeping me here. Revenge, unrequited love, boredom. I’m guessing boredom.”

There’s a beat.

“Can I get my console, though?” he adds, like he’s asking for a glass of water. “At least let me die of boredom with some dignity.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. He’s calm, unbothered, borderline entertained.

Gaku’s never been good at taking anything seriously—not torture, not death, not whatever the hell this situation is. But at the end of the day, he knows one thing for sure: the second you let your guard down, he’s walking out of here. Probably with your best snacks in his pocket.