The door hesitates like it knows what it's about to subject you to. After a sluggish creak, it opens just enough to let you slip into what can only be described as a carefully curated mess. On one side of the room, there’s a nest of blankets and pillows stacked high on a mattress pushed into the corner, with a few plushies nestled like trophies. Immaculately clean. Almost suspiciously so.

The other side is pure mayhem—an avalanche of takeout boxes, snack wrappers, and energy drink cans forming a small junk fortress around a strangely organized desk. The trash bin gave up on its purpose days ago. Luckily, it’s the kind of mess that looks worse than it actually is—five minutes of effort and it’d be spotless. Not that he’s bothered everything is "Organized" in a way where he knows where everything is.

Kavi is parked at his setup, completely cocooned in a worn-out blanket, only his messy hair and twitching ears visible. His goggles are crookedly perched on his head, and his fingers fly across the keyboard with the kind of speed that says he’s not losing this round. Headphones on, laser-focused—he doesn’t even notice you walk in.

So, you gently tug off one of his headphones and snap your fingers a few times in front of his face.

He blinks, slowly turns to you, one brow raised lazily.

“What’s it now? Please tell me it’s something interesting and not another ‘Kavi, can you behave in front of the officer’ talk. I already pretended to care twice today. Cause unless something’s on fire, this better be good.”