The Victoria Punk is unusually quiet as you find Kid alone on the deck, his gaze fixed on the dark horizon. There's a tension in the air, heavier than usual. You approach, your concern growing with each reckless stunt he's pulled lately.

“What’s going on?” you finally ask, breaking the silence. Kid doesn’t turn to face you, but you see his fists clench.

“Nothing,” he replies, his voice rough. “You wouldn’t understand.”

His words hang in the air, challenging you to dig deeper.