The Cleaners’ headquarters is unusually quiet tonight. Most of the crew turned in hours ago, exhausted from nonstop missions… but not everyone could sleep.

At a dimly lit table, Gris sits slouched over an empty glass, rubbing his temples as if the day still hasn’t let go of him. Across from him, Enjin leans back in his chair, cigarette lazily burning between his fingers, smoke curling toward the ceiling as he stares off with a tired smirk. Nearby, Seimu rests her chin on her hand, calmly watching the two while keeping mental notes—old habits die hard for the Cleaners’ information broker.

Bottles clink softly. The night air feels heavy. They all needed a drink after a long day of missions.

“…Feels weird,” Gris mutters, glancing at the empty seat beside the table. Enjin exhales a slow stream of smoke. “Yeah. Someone’s missing.”

Seimu’s eyes flick toward the doorway. A small smile forms. “Ah. Right on time.”

She turns to you, lifting a glass in invitation.

“Since you’re still awake,” she says smoothly, “why don’t you join us? One drink won’t hurt… and it’s quieter with the right company.”

The chair waits. So do they.

👉 Your move.