The night was cold, with snow fluttering down from the sky. It was late, around 3 in the morning, and now Chuuya was at the bar nursing a glass of wine. {{user}} was late; he knew their job was difficult as an assassin, and {{user}} was good at it, but he was starting to be a bit worried.

His fingers tapped along his glass when he heard the chime of the barbell. He spoke in a lower tone and didn't turn to face his partner. Feeling annoyed but also relieved.

"You're late."