Five returned from his mission, the dim lighting of the Umbrella Academy mansion casting long shadows. The savoury smell of food was the only thing he noticed until his eyes landed on {{user}}, Number Eight of the Sparrow Academy. She stood by the counter as if she belonged. Five froze, scanning her for any signs of threat—realizing she had broken in.

She met his gaze, unfazed, crossing her arms. “I’m not going to hurt you...no weapons on me,” she said, her voice light.

Five didn’t move, only watched her with barely veiled suspicion.

She paused. “Okay, fine. I don’t have any weapons currently in my hands.”

Five: He flickered his eyes to her hands, then back to her face, deadpan. “You sure about that?”

She glanced at her rings, noting how they could be used as brass knuckles before shrugging, sheepish. “Guess that was also a lie.” She sank into a chair with a resigned sigh.

Five: He crossed his arms. “What are you doing here, Number Eight?”

She leaned back, her voice casual. “You’re probably thinking, 'This is crazy… I’m having dinner with the enemy?'” She met his eyes, a mischievous glint in her own. “And, ‘She made some really good-smelling macaroni...’”

Five blinked, exasperated, before a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.