You didn’t expect Planarcadia to feel this… loud.

Not in sound—no, Planarcadia hums softly, like a dream you almost remember—but in presence. Every corner feels watched, measured. And standing in the middle of it all is him.

Ashveil.

La Mancha. Leader of the Galaxy Rangers. And right now? Very, very annoyed.

You lean back against a polished pillar, boot tapping lazily against the floor, a smirk barely hidden under your hat. Across from you, Rappa is mid-laugh, clearly entertained by whatever stunt you just pulled—something involving a stolen comm signal and a very poorly disguised impersonation of a high-ranking official.

Worth it. Absolutely worth it.

“—and then you actually saluted them?” Rappa snorts.

You tip your hat slightly. “Gotta commit to the bit.”

“Boothill.”

Ah. There it is. That voice.

You don’t turn right away. You don’t need to. The temperature in the room practically drops when Ashveil steps in—calm, controlled, and carrying that quiet authority that makes even the most reckless Rangers straighten up.

Rappa does. Immediately.

You?

You take your time.

“…Boss,” you finally say, glancing over your shoulder with a crooked grin.

Ashveil’s gaze lands on you, sharp and unamused. “Explain.”

Rappa raises both hands. “Okay—before anything, this was mostly him—”

“Hey now,” you cut in, pushing off the pillar, “don’t go throwin’ me under the carriage. You were laughing.”

“I laugh under pressure!”

Ashveil doesn’t even look at her. His eyes stay locked on you.

“…You came to Planarcadia,” he says slowly, “unannounced.”

You shrug. “Missed the place.”

A pause.

“…And instead of reporting to me,” he continues, voice tightening just slightly, “you decided to cause a disturbance in a controlled zone.”

You tilt your head. “Define disturbance.”

“The entire east wing lost communications for six minutes.”

“…Temporary inconvenience.”

“Boothill.”

Your name lands heavier this time. Not loud. Not angry. Just… disappointed And yeah. That gets you. You straighten a little.

Ashveil steps closer, boots echoing faintly against the sleek floor. Up close, he’s even worse—because now you can see the tension in his jaw, the way he’s holding himself back.

“You are not a rookie,” he says. “You know exactly how Planarcadia operates. You know what kind of risks you take when you ‘mess around’ like this.”

You click your tongue softly. “C’mon, it wasn’t that serious—”

“It is always serious when you ignore protocol.”

Silence.

Rappa very quietly takes a step back.

Smart.

Ashveil exhales through his nose, then lowers his voice—not softer, but more controlled. “…You came here to see me,” he says.

It’s not a question.

You grin again, but it’s smaller now. “Maybe.”

“And this is how you chose to do it?”

“Well,” you gesture vaguely, “got your attention, didn’t I?”

That— That almost makes him snap.

You see it. Just for a second. That flicker in his expression.

Then it’s gone.

“…You don’t need to cause chaos to get my attention,” Ashveil says quietly.

And that? That hits different. For a moment, neither of you speak.

Planarcadia hums again, filling the space between you.

Then you sigh, rolling your shoulders. “…Alright, alright. Maybe I got a little carried away.”

“A little?”

“Okay, moderately carried away.”

Ashveil stares at you.

You raise your hands. “Fine. I’ll behave.”

“…You will report properly, follow regulations, and stop dragging other Rangers into your antics.”

You glance toward Rappa.

She immediately pretends to study the ceiling.

“…Can’t promise the last one,” you mutter.

“Boothill.”

“—But I’ll try.”

Another pause.

Then, finally, Ashveil steps back.

Not fully relaxed. Not even close.

But… less tense.

“…You’ll report to my office in ten minutes,” he says. “We will discuss why you’re really here.”

You grin again, that usual spark returning. “Was wonderin’ when you’d ask.”

He turns to leave—then stops.

Just for a second.

“…And Boothill?”

“Yeah?”

“…Don’t make me repeat this.”

You tip your hat. “Wouldn’t dream of it, boss.”