#beach era

The Beach at night was loud.

Music pounding, bodies pressed together at the pool, somebody screaming-laughing near the bar, glasses breaking, Hatter's voice echoing from somewhere like a bad reverb. It was noise on top of noise, and Niragi usually loved it. Loved the chaos, the excuse to bark orders at his guys, the way people scrambled when they heard his boots on tile.

Tonight it made his teeth grind.

Because every time he glanced over at the far side of the lobby, the noise blurred out, and all he could see was Chishiya.

Chishiya in his stupud white hoodie and board shorts, hood down for once, pale neck bare. Sitting on one of the lobby couches with his legs drawn up, ankles crossed, like the world was a waiting room and he was bored of waiting. Kuina was laughing at something next to him, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, hair sticking to her shoulders from the pool. Arisu hovered at the edge of their little circle, looking wrecked and eager and easy to move around.

Chishiya had his head tilted, eyes half-lidded. Listening. The corner of his mouth was doing that faint twitch that meant he'd just said something shitty and smart.

Niragi wanted to put a bullet between his eyes and also put his thumb in that little crease of a smile and pull it wider just to see what it looked like.

"Boss," one of the militants said, jogging up, breathless. "We got a situation at the bar, some newbie's—"

"Handle it," Niragi snapped without looking away. "That's what you're for."

The guy swallowed and ran.

Across the room, Kuina bumped her shoulder into Chishiya's. He didn't flinch. Just cut her a look from under his fringe and said something low that made her throw her head back and cackle.

Niragi's jaw clicked.

He slung his rifle more comfortably against his back and started walking.

He cut through the crowd like a knife, ignoring hands that grabbed at him, idiots trying to haul him into their drunk orbit. Someone tried to slap him on the back, he shrugged them off without even looking.

By the time he hit the couch area, Kuina had stood up to go grab drinks. Perfect.

Arisu opened his mouth like he was about to say something to Chishiya, some dumb question, some whiny little plea for mentorship or comfort, and Niragi stepped between them before he could get a word out.

"Beat it, kid," he said.

Arisu blinked. "What—"

"You deaf?" Niragi grinned, all teeth. "Little exec meetin'. You're not on the list."

Arisu's eyes flicked to Chishiya, like maybe he'd get rescued.

Chishiya just blinked back, slow as a cat. "You heard him," he said mildly. "Run along."

Arisu's face did that hurt-puppy thing that made Niragi's fingers itch. He backed off, glancing between them, then disappeared into the noise.

"You're abusing your authority," Chishiya said, not bothering to sit up.

"Only got it if I use it," Niragi shot back.

He grabbed the front of Chishiya's hoodie and yanked him up before anyone could really clock what was happening. Chishiya let himself be hauled to his feet, eyes narrowing just a fraction.

"Walk," Niragi said in his ear.

He didn't wait for agreement. Just turned and dragged him toward the service hallway behind the lobby, away from the main flow of drunk bodies.

Chishiya didn't resist. That almost made it worse.

"You're being very dramatic," he observed as they slipped into the dim corridor, music muffled by concrete. "Are we going to shoot someone or fuck or is this something else entirely."

"Shut up."

Niragi shoved him through the first door on the left and kicked it closed behind them.

The stairwell was half-lit and smelled like dust and chlorine. The thump of the party was a dull heartbeat under their feet. Nobody used this place unless they were sneaking a smoke or a fuck. Or both.

Niragi pressed Chishiya back against the cool cement wall hard enough that his head tapped it, forearm across his collarbones. Not enough to choke. Yet.

"You got a problem with my face?" Chishiya asked calmly, looking right at him, as if his spine wasn't being introduced to concrete by a very loaded man with very bad impulse control.

"Yeah," Niragi said, too fast. "Actually. I fuckin' do."

"How tragic for you."

His eyes were doing that thing. That look that slid over Niragi like he was being inventoried, broken down into parts and prices. Condescending. Always.

Niragi slammed his palm into the wall right next to his head. "Stop fuckin' looking at other people like that."

"Like what."

"Like that!" The words tore out of him. "Like they're—interesting. Like they're in on some joke with you. You don't look at me like that."

Chishiya blinked.

Niragi realised too late what he'd just said.

"Oh," Chishiya said.

"Shut up."

"I see."

"I said shut up."

He grabbed Chishiya's chin, fingers digging in, thumb pressed hard into the hinge of his jaw. "You think I don't see you? Huh? Pretty boy sittin' in your little corner, pickin' people like toys. You think I don't notice when you smile at them. When you waste that shit on them instead of—"

He bit it off.

Chishiya's lashes lowered a fraction. "Instead of what."

"You know what."

"You're going to have to be more precise," Chishiya said, voice softening in that dangerous way. "My attention span's not what it used to be."

His hoodie was bunched in Niragi's fist, fabric stretched tight across his chest. He was smaller up close, bony under the cotton, throat pale and thin and right there. Niragi had a sudden, vivid image of putting his hand around it. Not to crush. Just to feel.

Fuck.

"You think I don't see you," Niragi said again, lower now. "Watchin' me. Every time I crack someone's skull for mouthin' off, every time I point my gun at some dumb bitch who doesn't know when to stop talking. You're always there. Smirkin'. Like it's funny."

"Sometimes it is," Chishiya said. "You have a certain... performative flair."

Niragi shoved his forearm a fraction higher, pinning him more securely to the wall. "You like watchin' me hurt people."

Chishiya's eyes flicked over his face, down to his mouth, then back up. "Are you looking for moral condemnation, Niragi, or a yes."

"Yes," Niragi spat.

Chishiya huffed a tiny laugh. "Then yes. It's entertaining."

"Yeah?" Niragi leaned in, close enough that their breath mingled. "Still funny if I tell you half of 'em got their skulls cracked 'cause they were starin' at you wrong?"

He felt the slightest catch in Chishiya's pulse under his wrist. Barely. But it was there.

"Ah," Chishiya said softly. "So that's what this is about."

"Guy from the card room yesterday. The girl at the pool bar. That freak from the light bulb game." Niragi's voice dropped to a growl. "You think they tripped? You think they just stopped comin' around?"

Chishiya watched him, quiet.

"I don't fuckin' like people lookin' at what's mine," Niragi said.

It hung there, ugly and bare.

The word tasted like acid and sugar in his mouth. Mine.

Chishiya's mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. Something smaller. "Possessiveness is such a flattering quality in a coworker."

"Don't start," Niragi warned.

"In a subordinate, even."

Niragi's fist hit the wall next to his head again. "I will shoot somebody, pretty boy, don't test me."

"You already have," Chishiya pointed out. "Several somebodies, according to your own admission. Should I be touched?"

"You should stop lettin' 'em think they can." His hand slid from Chihiya's chin to his throat without him deciding to move it. Fingers warm against that thin, fragile column. He could feel Chishiya swallow, slow and careful. "You wanna play with their heads, fine, whatever, I get it. But you don't let 'em touch you. You don't let 'em talk to you like they're close. You don't—"

"—let them think I'm available?" Chishiya supplied. "Is that what you're trying to say?"

Niragi's grip tightened, just for a heartbeat.

"Yeah," he said, rough. "That."

Chishiya's eyes were very dark now. His hands had been lax at his sides this whole time, now one of them came up, fingers brushing the inside of Niragi's elbow, light and cool.

"You're assuming," he said, "that if I was available, you'd be the one to cash in."

Niragi laughed, sharp and disbelieving. "Who else is gonna handle you? Arisu?" He sneered the name. "Kuina? One of those meatheads in the bar? You'd eat 'em alive in a week. I'm the only one here who's not scared of you, pretty boy."

"That's not true," Chishiya said mildly. "Plenty of people aren't scared of me. They're just stupid."

"Well I'm not," Niragi said. "I see you for what you are."

"And what's that."

"A fuckin' viper in a hoodie."

Chishiya tilted his head against the wall, the line of his throat shifting under Niragi's palm. "That's flattering. I do so hate being miscategorised."

"They don't get to look at you like they know you," Niragi muttered, thumb pressing right over his pulse now. It jumped, once, hard. "They don't get to stand that close. They don't get that smile. That shit's—"

He cut himself off again.

"Hmm," Chishiya said. "Mine?"

Niragi's lip curled. "You got a problem with that?"

"Not particularly," Chishiya said. "I just like hearing you say it."

"You're fucked up," Niragi said, hoarse. "You know that?"

"Of course." Chishiya's fingers slid up his arm, very lightly. "Let me reframe this for you, Niragi, because clearly you're having trouble articulating your feelings."

Niragi narrowed his eyes. "Don't."

"You don't want them to think they can touch me," Chishiya said, voice dropping. "Because you're going to be the one who does. When you decide the timing is right. When you're done playing with your food."

"Yeah," Niragi breathed.

"You don't want them flirting with me," Chishiya continued, as if cataloguing data. "Because you like knowing you could put a bullet in their head any time you want and nobody would question it, and it makes you feel something. Alive, maybe. In control."

"You like it."

"Of course I do." That not-smile tugged again. "It's tedious, being the only one here worth the effort."

Niragi huffed, half a laugh, half a helpless exhale. His hand on Chishiya's throat loosened, just a little. Enough air. Enough room to talk.

Chishiya didn't move away.

"You're gonna get yourself killed," Niragi muttered. "One day you're gonna pick the wrong mark and they're gonna—"

"You won't let them," Chishiya said simply.

"Damn right I won't."

"There you go." His fingers flexed once on Niragi's arm, the closest thing Chishiya had to a squeeze. "Problem solved."

"It's not fuckin' solved," Niragi snapped. "You're still sittin' out there lettin' idiots think they've got a shot, lettin' 'em think—"

"Who said they think that," Chishiya cut in. "You're projecting."

"I saw the way that girl was lookin' at you. At the bar. The one with the stupid hair."

Chishiya's eyes slid sideways like he was scrolling through a mental list. "Ah. The one you shoved into the pool."

"Yeah."

"She was talking to Kuina," Chishiya pointed out. "The fact that you read that as interest in me says more about you than her."

"Don't care," Niragi said. "Don't like it. Don't want it."

"And yet," Chishiya said, "you seem to like the fact that I know you're doing it."

Niragi's mouth twisted. "Maybe I do."

"That almost sounded like honesty." Chishiya's gaze dropped to his mouth again, then back up. "Careful. People might start thinking you have depth."

"I'll shoot 'em before they get the chance."

"I'm counting on it."

For a second, the stairwell was just breathing and far-off bassline and the tiny crackle of fluorescent lights.

Niragi realised his thumb had started stroking Chishiya's pulse point without his permission. Slow. Back and forth. Like checking that it was still there.

Chishiya let him.

"You don't change how you act out there," Niragi said suddenly.

"No?"

"No." He leaned in closer, until his nose brushed the side of Chishiya's. "You keep doin' your little smirks and your head tilts and your eyes. You keep lettin' 'em think they're in one something. But you don't let 'em touch. You don't go off alone with them. You don't let them stand where I'm standin' right now. You get me?"

"It sounds like you're giving me permission to keep teasing everyone," Chishiya said. "As long as I remember whose gun is pointed at their backs."

"Yeah." Niragi bared his teeth. "Exactly."

Chishiya considered that. Them, finally, slowly, he smiled. Properly this time. Small, sharp, visciously pleased.

"Deal," he said.

Niragi's brain shorted for a second. That smile. Given to him. On purpose.

"Good boy," Chishiya added.

Niragi choked on nothing. "The fuck did you just—"

The stairwell door creaked.

Both of them froze.

Footsteps on the landing above. Someone giggling. A couple, by the sound of it.

Niragi's hand dropped from Chishiya's throat to his chest, flattening there. Chishiya smoothed his hoodie with a lazy motion, as if he hadn't just been pinned.

The footsteps paused, then retreated. The door closed again.

"See?" Chishiya said softly. "They don't get to see you like this either."

"Like what."

He shrugged one shoulder against the wall. "Worked up over me."

Niragi snorted, but it came out a little shaky. "Don't get used to it."

"Oh, I already have."

He pushed off the wall, ducking under Niragi's arm with infuriating grace. Opened the stairwell door back into the hurricane of sound.

Over his shoulder, he added, "You should get back to the lobby. People will start to wonder if their watchdog has abandoned his post."

Niragi stared at the empty space where his body had been for a second. Then he followed, boots loud on the stairs.

In the blast of light and music, Chishiya slipped back onto his couch like he'd just gone for a piss. Niragi took up position on the balcony over the pool, rifle across his shoulders, gaze sweeping the crowd.

Every time it passed over the little white shape on the couch, it lingered. Just a second too long.

Nobody touched him.

Nobody tried.

The Six of Spades game ended with the usual screaming.

The ship ride slowed, lasers finished their work, the survivors staggered off bleeding and panting. Chishiya watched from the upper level of the abandoned amusement park, elbows on the rusted rail, hoodie up against the stale wind. He had not played. There was no point wasting a life on a gun game when he could stand outside the blast radius and let other people thin themselves out.

Niragi dropped from the ride platform with his rifle slung over his shoulder, laughing too loud, smoke still curling from the barrel. Aguni followed, jaw tight, eyes scanning the corpses with the distracted precision of a man who had seen too many already.

Business as usual.

Then a small voice broke through the echo of the system announcement.

"Papa?"

Chishiya almost ignored it. Borderland liked tricks. Voices in the dark, shapes at the edge of the vision. He had seen people follow those and get their heads taken clean off.

The voice came again. High, bewildered.

"Papa!"

This time it came from ground level, not the shadows. Near the back of the mangled spectators' area.

Chishiya pushed off the railing and went down the stairs, curiosity winning out over caution. Below, the survivors were already drifting toward the out gate, dazed and overstimulated. Niragi's laughter spiked as he told someone to stop crying or he'd given them a real reason.

Nobody else seemed to have heard the kid.

Chishiya moved past a toppled trash can, stepped over a smear of blood, and saw her.

Small. Too small. Eight, maybe nine, in a T-shirt and shorts, knees scraped, hair sticking to her face. She had one hand fisted in the ear of a battered stuffed black cat and the other shielding her eyes from the harsh emergency lights as she turned in a slow circle.

When she saw him, she stopped.

For a moment she just stared. Taking him in. White hoodie, loose joggers, hair a mess under the hood, hands in his pockets again out of reflex.

Then she ran straight at him.

Chishiya stiffened. She hit his legs like a soft missile, arms locking around his waist, face mashing into his hoodie.

Found him. Relief hit her body all at once, it went loose against him, like she'd been holding herself rigid this whole time.

"Papa," she said into his stomach, like that settled it.

Chishiya looked down at the top of her head. At the tight white knuckles in his sweatshirt. At the ridiculous little cat doll mashed between them.

He did not, strictly speaking, have the skillset for this.

His hands hovered stupidly for a second, unsure what to do. Then one of them settled on her shoulder. Careful. Like she might be a bomb.

"You have the wrong person," he said.

She shook her head against him. "No."

"Interesting," he murmered.

Up close, there were details he couldn't ignore. The set of her jaw. The shape of her eyes. Not like his. Not like anyone he knew. But there was something faintly familiar about the whole picture, a ghost of recognition that made the back of his neck feel strange.

Aguni's shadow fell over them a heartbeat later.

"Kid?" His voice snapped like a command. The way it always did when he thought there might be an ambush. "Where did she come from?"

That was the question.

Chishiya gave a small shrug, one hand still resting on the girl's shoulder. "She called me Papa and attached herself. You tell me."

Aguni's mouth tightened. He scanned the empty bleachers, the dark corners. No parents, no other children, no convenient explanation. Just a little girl clinging to an executive's hoodie while the smell of blood still hung in the air.

His hand flexed around the grip of his gun.

"Whose is she?" He raised his voice. "Anyone missing a kid?"

The few survivors still close enough to hear flinched and shook their heads. One of them looked at the girl with naked pity. None of them stepped forward.

The girl turned her head, eyes flicking between Aguni and the bodies on the ground. She pressed closer to Chishiya. The stuffed cat dug into his ribs.

Aguni noticed that, too. How she tucked herself in, how she did not seem inclined to let go.

Something in his expression shifted. Barely. An old, buried guilt flickering behind his eyes.

"Great," Niragi's voice cut in from somewhere to their right. "We pick up strays now? Give her a visa and a rifle, toss her in the next game, problem solved."

He strolled over, blood on his hands, hair a mess from the ride. The long barrel of his rifle rested lazy across his shoulders.

The girl caught sight of him and froze.

For a split second she looked like a picture Chishiya had seen once. Wide-eyed, small, faced with something too big and too loud.

Then recognition flashed there instead. Disbelief. Hope.

Her grip on Chishiya's hoodie tightened.

"Dad?" she whispered.

Niragi stopped mid-step.

It was almost funny, how fast he went still. How the smirk dropped off his face. He stared at her as if she'd grown a second head.

Chishiya watched him. The stunned blink, the laugh that tried to ramp up and died in his throat.

"Uh," Niragi said. "The fuck?"

The girl didn't give him time to answer his own question. She let go of Chishiya long enough to lunge at Niragi, arms wrapping around his middle with the same desperate force she'd used on Chishiya.

The rifle wobbled, Niragi grabbed it with a startled curse to keep it from tipping.

"Dad," she said, muffled against his shirt. "You're not burned. You're—"

She cut herself off, catching the word too late, but it hung there anyway.

Burned.

Niragi's fingers spasmed around the rifle. His eyes flicked down to her, then back up to Chishiya, then over to Aguni.

Nobody had an answer for him.

Aguni exhaled through his nose, the decision landing in his shoulders. "Leaving her out here isn't an option."

"Why not?" Niragi shot back, reflexively mean. "This place eats adults. Kids got no chance."

"Exactly." The weight in Aguni's voice shut Niragi up faster than a gunshot. "We take her back to the Beach. Figure it out there."

The girl didn't look up. She was still pressed into Niragi's stomach like she'd been trying to hug the breath back into his lungs.

Chishiya tilted his head. "The Beach isn't a daycare."

"You object, you can stay with her out here," Aguni said.

Chishiya did not object.

On the walk back, the girl refused to let go of either of them. She clung to Niragi's hand with one small grip and to Chishiya's with the other, shuffling between them like some short-legged tether.

Every time a laser cracked somewhere in the distance she flinched and squeezed harder.

Her name, she finally provided, under Aguni's quiet prodding, was Hana.

Of course it was.

At the Beach, Hatter reacted exactly the way Chishiya had expected.

"A child," Hatter said, delighted and horrified in equal measure. "In this world. It's a sign. Proof of innocence, of hope, of—"

"It's a problem," Chishiya cut in. "One stray bullet and your symbol's on the floor."

Hatter waved a hand dismissively. "We'll keep her safe. The executives can... rotate coverage. Think of the morale. A reminder of the world we left behind."

Reminders were the last thing most of them needed.

Hana had no idea she was being discussed like logistics. She sat on the arm of a couch in the executive lounge, legs too short to reach the floor, stuffed cat in her lap. Her eyes tracked every movement Chishiya made, like he was some kind of anchor. Every time someone else came too close she edged away until her knee bumped his.

He stayed seated for that reason alone.

"You comfortable?" he asked at one point, voice mild.

"Mm-hm." She leaned against his side, head resting just above his hip. Close enough that he could have counted her eyelashes if he'd wanted to. "You smell right."

That was an interesting statement to unpack.

"Since when did you have a kid," Niragi said for the third time, sprawled in the armchair across from them with his boots on the table. The confusion hadn't worn off. It just sat under his skin now, twitchy, making his usual sharpness come out at odd angles. "Pretty boy out here keeping secrets from us."

"I had no idea," Chishiya said. It was technically true. "Apparently I'm very busy in the future."

Hana huffed a laugh against his hoodie. "You're always busy," she said, like this was a running joke between them. "Papa works too much."

Aguni's gaze flicked between them, thoughtful. Hatter was already talking about card collection rates and how a mascot might bump compliance.

Niragi stared at Hana. At the way she said Papa without hesitation. At the casual little way she leaned against Chishiya like she'd done it a thousand times.

He could have made a crack about Chishiya being irresponsible, about not using protection, about beach babies. The usual.

He didn't.

Instead he slouched deeper in his chair, rifle laid across his lap. His hand hovered a little too close to the grip. Every time someone passed the lounge door and did a double-take at the sight of the kid, Niragi's finger twitched.

Later, when Hatter called an executive meeting in the smaller conference room to talk about traitors and card strategy, Hana refused to stay behind.

The supposedly safe guest room they'd cleared for her, fresh sheets, spare stuffed animals scavenged from the city, some half-functioning fairy lights Hatter thought kids liked, held her for all of five minutes.

Then she appeared in the doorway of the conference room, dragging her cat by the ear, looking unimpressed.

"I told you to stay," Aguni said.

"You're all here," Hana said, which apparently solved that problem in her mind. She walked straight over to Chishiya, climbed into his lap uninvited, and tucked herself under his arm.

He adjusted around her automatically. There was a faint surprised murmur from the other executives.

"She can't be here for this," someone objected. "We're talking about executions, about—"

"She can't be alone," Hana cut in, not bothering to look at them. Her focus stayed fixed on the table, on the cards Hatter had spread out as a visual aid. "Alone is worse."

There was something about the way she said it that shut most of them up.

Chishiya felt Niragi's eyes on him from across the table. When he glanced up, Niragi was watching Hana, not him, rifle point aimed casually at the floor.

"Kid's got a point," Niragi said. "Place is full of creeps. She's safer here."

"Since when do you care about safe," Mira asked, amused.

"Since we brought a child to the Beach," he snapped back, sharper than he seemed to intend.

Mira's smile widened. Hatter looked pleased. Aguni looked tired.

The meeting went on. Discussions of game assignments, of patrol routes, of what to do about Arisu. Through it all, Hana stayed curled against Chishiya's chest, eyes half-lidded. When someone raised their voice she flinched, then settled again when Chishiya's hand came up, almost on its own, to smooth down her hair.

He caught himself doing it and paused.

She made a small content noise, like a cat being petted, and relaxed more fully against him.

Too easy. She trusted too easily.

She should not have been able to recognise either of them. Not here. Not now. Not when every version of them she had would have to be older, different, altered by years that hadn't happened yet.

Unless they would. Unless the line between whatever world she came from and this one was thinner than he liked.

Niragi's chair scraped quietly. He had abandoned his slouch at some point and was sitting forward. elbows on his knees, rifle leaning against the table within arm's reach. His gaze skimmed the room, checking every corner, every doorway, every hand on a gun.

Every time someone moved too fast, his jaw tightened.

When Hana finally dozed off for real, head tipping against Chishiya's chest, the room quieted a fraction.

"She tired?" Niragi asked, low enough that it wasn't really for the whole table.

"Apparently." Chishiya shifted, careful not to jostle her. "The commute was rough."

Niragi's mouth twitched despite himself. "You think this is real."

"If it isn't," Chishiya said, "it's a very elaborate hallucination we're both having at the same time."

"Could be a game."

"It is a game. That's the problem." He looked down at the girl. At Hana. At the hand she had curled in his hoodie as if she could anchor herself that way.

"'You're not burned,'" Niragi said under his breath. He still hadn't quite gotten past that. He touched his unscarred cheek, like he could feel heat ghosting under the skin.

Chishiya said nothing.

They finished the meeting. Cards were slotted back into their case. People filed out in small, nervous groups.

When it was just the three of them and Aguni, the room felt strangely small.

Hana stirred in his lap, blinked herself awake, and squinted at the harsh overhead light.

"Meeting's over," Niragi told her. "You snored through the good parts."

"I don't snore," she said, affronted.

"Yeah, you do. Like a tiny chainsaw."

She made a face at him. It was weirdly familiar, like a smaller, softer version of the way Chishiya expressed annoyance.

Aguni rubbed a hand over his face. "She stays with one of you," he said. "At least for now. Less confusion. Less... opportunity."

He meant less chance someone unhinged decided a kid was a liability and tried to make that the Beach's problem.

Niragi's mouth opened, some automatic protest ready.

Hana solved the question for them by twisting in Chishiya's lap and lifting her arms toward Niragi.

"Up," she said.

There was no reason for him to obey. No logical one, anyway.

He did.

She settled against his chest like she'd always fit there, legs wrapping around his middle, arms hooked around his neck. The rifle got awkward, he shifted it out of the way without even thinking, leaning it against the wall instead of keeping it on him.

Her small weight pressed against an old, hollow place inside his ribs in a way that made him feel half-sick.

"This doesn't mean anything," he said, mostly for himself.

"Of course not," Chishiya said, watching him with that too-sharp gaze. "You can put her down any time you like."

The way Niragi's arms tightened made than an obvious lie.

Hana rested her head on his shoulder, facing Chishiya, eyes already slipping closed again.

"You're coming too," she mumbled. "Don't go too far."

Chishiya's mouth quirked. "Apparently I'm inivted."

"Yeah, well." Niragi jerked his chin toward the door. "If this is some time-travel bullshit, I'm not explaining to future me why you let her out of your sight."

Chishiya stood, hands sliding into his pockets out of habit. "Good thing you're on watch, then."