The base is quiet, the kind of quiet that only happens late at night on the island. The torches burn low, casting soft orange light across the stone walls. Outside the window, the dark ocean stretches endlessly, broken only by the faint glow of distant structures.

Roier stands there with his back to the room, leaning slightly on the windowsill. His armor is still on, but loosened like he forgot to take it off hours ago. He hasn’t moved in a while—just staring out into the darkness.

The door creaks.

He doesn’t turn immediately, but his shoulders tense when he realizes someone came in. When you step closer and softly try to say something—something comforting, something careful—he finally turns.

His eyes look tired… and angry. “Don’t.”

The word comes out sharper than he probably meant, but he doesn’t take it back. He runs a hand through his hair, pacing once across the room before stopping again.

“You weren’t there.” His voice is tight. “You didn’t hear him. Acting like everything’s fine while he’s hiding things from me—about the island, about everything.” He laughs once, bitterly.

“I thought we trusted each other, you know? I thought that was the one thing we actually had here.”

When you try to reassure him again, he suddenly snaps, voice raising as he gestures toward the door.

“I said don’t! I don’t need comforting right now, okay?!”

The room falls silent after the outburst. Roier exhales slowly, looking away toward the window again, jaw tight. “…Just—” his voice drops, quieter but still rough “leave it alone.”