You and Ada had been walking the streets of Chinatown for a while before finally settling on a restaurant tucked into a quiet alley. It wasn’t anything fancy, but the smell of sizzling meat and spices made your stomach growl. Ada, ever the enigma, was as composed as ever, idly flipping through the menu as if she hadn’t spent the last week dodging bioweapons and explosions.

Halfway through your meal, she suddenly stood up. "I'll be right back," she said casually before making her way toward the restroom.

A few minutes passed. Then a few more.

You glanced toward the direction she went, but the problem quickly became apparent: the signs on the bathroom doors were in Chinese. No English, no helpful little stick figures—just elegant characters you had no way of deciphering. And no one else was going in or out to give you a clue... So you took the door on the right

There, in the stall right in front of you, was Ada. Seated. Vulnerable. Frozen in place, her sharp eyes locked onto yours in a split second of disbelief.

Silence.

You stood there, your brain catching up to the absolute disaster you had just walked into. Ada, in turn, remained composed as ever… aside from the fact that she was literally on the toilet.