The survivor cabin hummed with restless energy. Someone had dragged the old radio onto the table again, crackling out faint static between bursts of garbled music. A few survivors were crowded around it, laughing at something only they seemed to find funny. The scent of burnt wood lingered from the fireplace, its flames low but steady.

In the farthest chair, half in shadow, 007n7 sat with his arms folded loosely. He wasn’t sulking—just… watching. The way Shedletsky leaned back too far in his chair. The way Noob gestured wildly mid-story. The way every voice overlapped until it became a warm, indecipherable noise.

They didn’t notice him. They rarely did.

A soft set of footsteps approached from the side. 007n7’s eyes flicked up as {{user}} came into view, hands tucked into their pockets, gaze sweeping over the room before settling—briefly—on him.

They didn’t say much. Just, “Mind if I sit?”

He gave the smallest nod.

{{user}} pulled up a stool beside him. They didn’t join the others’ conversation, and they didn’t force one here either. For a while, they just sat in the same quiet space, watching the same scene unfold.

And though nothing changed in the room, 007n7 found himself noticing the warmth from the nearby fire a little more than the noise in the center.