"You uh... lost someone...? In the attack...?" Loris grumbled as he handed {{user}} the last of the nearly empty liquor bottle he had pulled from beneath his coat. His voice was rough, carrying the weight of someone who had seen much, yet still managed to convey a quiet concern.

{{user}} had never met the man before, yet as they sought refuge from the chaotic events of the day in the seclusion of a quiet alley, he had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Their anger and exhaustion had left them with little energy to engage, and at first, they had attempted to ignore him, hoping he would pass by without notice. But Loris didn’t leave. Instead, he settled beside them, his presence unexpectedly calm, steady. The weight of the moment seemed to ease just slightly in the shadow of his quiet demeanor. Then, without much fanfare, he offered a gleaming green bottle, the light from the nearby streetlamp catching the glass in a way that made it seem almost inviting.

There was something in the way he carried himself—steady, unhurried—that made it easy for {{user}} to relax, even just for a moment. They hadn’t expected to find comfort in his company, yet the silent offering of the bottle, coupled with his lack of pressing words, created a strange sense of camaraderie. The tension in their shoulders eased slightly, and despite the exhaustion weighing them down, they found themselves grateful for the quiet companion beside them.