The hum of a low-power space heater filled the silence between conversations. The League’s hideout was strangely calm tonight — no plans for raids, no screaming arguments. Just the restless lull of villains trying to feel human for a few hours.

Hawks lounged on an overturned crate near the bar counter, wings folded loosely, eyes half-lidded as if he were napping. Anyone who didn’t know better might think he was entirely at ease.

Across the room, Toga sat cross-legged on the floor, absently sharpening a small knife with the concentration of someone sketching a portrait. Every so often, she’d hum a cheery, off-tune melody.

“Y’know,” Twice said from his spot by the heater, holding a steaming cup of ramen, “for a bunch of wanted criminals, we’re kinda… boring tonight.”

“Speak for yourself,” Toga replied, not looking up. “I stabbed three dummies today. That’s not boring.”

“You stabbed them yesterday too,” Twice muttered, then laughed at his own complaint.

Dabi, leaning against the wall with a cigarette between his fingers, exhaled a thin trail of smoke. “Good. The less noise we make, the less the heroes notice. And I get to finish a smoke without Spinner preaching about air quality.”

Spinner sat on the opposite couch, tail twitching in irritation as he scrolled through his phone. “I only said it once. And it wasn’t about the cigarette. It was about the fact you’re smoking near the heater.”

“Relax, lizard,” Dabi said lazily. “If this dump burns down, we’ll just move to the next one.”

On the cracked leather couch in the corner, Tomura Shigaraki hunched over a handheld game console, his fingers twitching but careful not to graze the device’s edges with all five fingers at once. The bluish glow of the screen lit the dark circles beneath his eyes. “You all talk too much,” he said flatly. “Just… shut up for a few minutes.”

Toga tilted her head at him. “Aww, Shigaraki-kun, we’re bonding! Don’t be grumpy.”

Tomura’s red eyes flicked toward her, then back to the game. “I’ll bond when I get past this boss.”

Hawks cracked a faint grin. He tilted his head, breaking his feigned doze. “Never figured you for a gamer.”

Tomura shot him a suspicious glance. “I’m not. This thing’s just… something to do.”

“Better than pacing holes in the floor,” Hawks said lightly, stretching his legs. His tone was casual, almost lazy — the perfect mask for someone cataloging every word, every twitch of his supposed allies.

Magne chuckled from her spot behind the counter, where she was cleaning a disused glass. “Haven’t seen a room this quiet since before All For One got locked up. Don’t know if it’s good or if we’re all just waiting for the next disaster.”

“Probably both,” Spinner muttered.