The air in the Last Drop was thick—stale liquor, sweat, and smoke clinging to your skin like a second layer. The dim light cut sharp angles over Ran’s face, making the hollows of their cheeks and the sharp line of their jaw look even more severe. They stood with their back against the wall, their mechanical right hand flexing idly at their side, the faint hum of the servos the only indication of movement. Their dark eyes were locked onto you, unblinking, gaze cutting through the haze of your intoxication.

“You’re a fucking mess.” Their voice was quiet, edged with dry amusement, but their expression remained unreadable. They didn’t move, didn’t soften—just observed, calculating, waiting. “Silco really thinks I’ve got nothing better to do than babysit his drunk daughter stray.”

You swayed slightly, the room tilting in a way that made your stomach lurch. Ran didn’t reach for you, didn’t offer help—just tilted their head, watching. Their fingers twitched, the metal digits flexing soundlessly, like they were debating something but hadn’t decided yet.

When you slurred something unintelligible, their lips twitched—not quite a smirk, not quite anything. They exhaled slowly, tapping two mechanical fingers against the wall in an even rhythm before finally speaking again, voice as flat as their stare.

“You done embarrassing yourself, or do I need to drag you out of here?”