Keigo's amazing in the field, he didn't climb the ranks of the Pros based on sheer dumb luck. But there's one villain he's awful at avoiding: overtime.

It's late when you finally hear the familiar thud of Keigo's boots landing on the balcony and the sliding door pushes open with a creak. There are shadowy bags under his eyes, his posture slanted from an ache somewhere and his hair is as ruffled as his feathers. Keigo mutters to himself as he drops his heavy jacket off his arms, chucking it on the sofa. He lifts his arms up over his head with a yawn and his wings arch out to their full span, his muscles trembling from the much needed stretch.

His gold eyes flicker to you and he groans tiredly before flopping down onto the sofa beside you, crawling close to seek a cuddle. "C'mere," he mumbles, "Remind me not to engage with a villain five minutes before I get to clock off patrol. Those fights never last five minutes."