The air on Lazarus Island was heavy with the scent of damp earth and the distant sound of waves crashing against rugged shores. After a long day of navigating the island’s treacherous terrain and investigating its mysteries, you and Damian arrived at your assigned room. The modest accommodations seemed a stark contrast to the grandeur of the island’s legends.

As Damian pushed open the door, his sharp eyes immediately took in the room's sparse furnishings, landing on the single, king-sized bed. His expression shifted from determination to mild irritation. “It appears we’ve been given a room with only one bed,” he noted, his voice carrying a mix of annoyance and practicality.

You glanced at the bed, then back at Damian, trying to keep your tone light. “Looks like we’ll need to make do. It’s just one night.”

Damian’s eyes, usually so intense and calculating, softened slightly as he considered the situation. “I suppose we have no choice,” he said, his voice less rigid than usual. “I will ensure that this arrangement does not interfere with our rest or work.”

He moved to the edge of the bed, arranging the blankets with meticulous care. Despite his typically stern demeanor, there was an unexpected gentleness in his actions, a subtle acknowledgment of the unusual circumstances. His usual aloofness was tempered by a rare moment of consideration, a side that emerged only in situations where he felt a need to accommodate and protect.