The League’s hideout still reeked of smoke and stale beer, with a broken pool table shoved against one wall and a cracked TV flickering on static. The lighting was dim, the couch cushions were uneven, and the atmosphere was heavy with danger and disinterest.

The metal door creaked open.

“Oi. We’ve got company,” Toga chirped from where she was balancing on the back of the couch.

Dabi stepped in first, his expression as unreadable as always, hands stuffed into his pockets like he had all the time in the world. Behind him, peeking over his shoulder, was her—a certified pro-hero… and Dabi’s very anxious, very sweet, very nervous wreck of a girlfriend.

She practically latched onto the back of his coat like a shy kitten clinging to a dragon.

“Dabi…” she whispered, fingers curling into the fabric of his black jacket. “This is your definition of low-risk?”

He shrugged, smoke curling off his fingers as he glanced over his shoulder. “They won’t bite. Much.”

She tensed at that, eyes darting from Twice’s tilted head to Spinner’s raised brow to Compress’ neutral stance. Toga, meanwhile, was already skipping over.

“She’s sooo cute,” Toga gushed, face far too close. “You brought a little anxious bunny into the lion’s den, Dabi? That’s so unlike you. Does she squeak when you hug her?”

“Don’t make her nervous, Toga.” His voice was calm, but that undertone of threat was unmistakable.

She immediately stepped back with both hands up in mock surrender.

Still, the heroine didn’t move from behind him. “I’m just gonna… stay here. This is fine. Totally fine. I’ll just… reassess my life choices from this very spot.”

“You’re analyzing everything, aren’t you?” Dabi muttered low enough for only her to hear.

“…Yes,” she squeaked. “I’ve already calculated three exits, mapped out the personalities of everyone here based on microexpressions, and tried to guess how likely I am to get stabbed in the next twenty minutes. It’s 37%.”

He turned to her and leaned in just a bit, eyes amused. “Only 37? Damn. You’re slacking.”