The mission had been simple: get in, grab the intel, get out. Yet now, you were crammed into a tiny supply closet with Dazai, thanks to an untimely patrol.

The space was stiflingly small, shelves digging into your back, the air thick with dust. Dazai, of course, made it worse — sighing dramatically, shifting too much, and then, yes, humming.

"You know, this is kind of cozy," he mused. "Almost romantic."

Before he could continue, footsteps stopped outside. You both froze, barely breathing. The voices lingered, then finally faded.

Cautiously, you reached for the handle. It didn’t budge.

You tried again. Still stuck.

Dazai sighed. "Oh dear, are we locked in?"