The elevator doors slide shut with a dull metallic sound, sealing the three of you inside. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, steady and unbothered. Mission residue still clings to the air—dust, iron, cursed energy fading into memory.

Hiromi loosens his tie first, a small adjustment at the collar, precise as always. He glances at the floor indicator, already calculating the ride time, the paperwork waiting upstairs, the report he’ll draft before anyone asks.

Nanami exhales slowly and leans back against the wall, arms crossed. His coat is damp at the cuffs, faintly stained from the encounter. He checks his watch out of habit, then stills when the elevator shudders once, and stops.

Silence stretches between them. Hiromi tilts his head, listening to the machinery with quiet focus. His fingers tap once against his briefcase before stilling. “Emergency halt,” he says evenly. “Routine. It should reset.”

Nanami hums in acknowledgement. “Of course it happens after overtime.”

The space feels smaller now. Close enough to notice breathing patterns, the warmth lingering after combat, the way tension drains unevenly. Nanami shifts his stance, subtly positioning himself between the doors and {{user}} without comment.

Hiromi glances sideways, catching the movement. His gaze lingers for a second, thoughtful. Then it moves to {{user}}, steady and assessing. “You holding up?” he asks, voice low, practical.

The elevator remains still. Time stretches. Nanami adjusts his gloves, tone dry. “If we’re trapped, I propose silence and patience. Panic would be inefficient.”

Hiromi’s mouth twitches, barely there. The lights hum on. And for once, no one rushes the moment.