You were cleaning under your bed — a rare event, and only because someone..Rudo..had mentioned losing half a toaster somewhere near your quarters.

You didn’t expect to find Enjin’s umbrella.

It was unmistakable: matte black, carbon-forged ribs, a faded sticker of a grinning cat skull still clinging to the handle.

You’d seen him spin it in his hands during briefings like it was a cane, a blade, or an afterthought — depending on the day.

You stared at it for a long second. Then longer. Then slowly dragged it out from under your bed.

It wasn’t just the fact that it was his. It was where it was. Under your bed.

Which meant at some point — without you knowing, without permission — Enjin had been in your room. And not just a step in, toss a note, step out kind of visit.

No. He’d been in deep enough to lose something. Which meant he’d lingered. Which meant he was way too comfortable.

You stood there in complete silence, umbrella in one hand, inner gears turning like a slow-loading security feed. Then you turned and left.

You found Enjin exactly where you thought he’d be — in the lounge, boots on the table, sipping tea like he was royalty in exile. He looked up as you approached, grinned wide.

“Hey, look who’s—”

Thud.

You dropped the umbrella onto the table in front of him with the weight of a loaded threat. His grin faltered — just a flicker. “Ah… You found it.”

You said nothing.

He scratched the back of his head, pretending to examine the umbrella as if it was some long-lost artifact. “Crazy thing, really. I was wondering where that went.”

“Under my bed.” He blinked at your words.