„They hadn’t planned to stay long. Just a drink or two, a quiet booth, a night off from the galaxy’s chaos. But Spotchka had a way of loosening more than just nerves. It cracked laughter wide open, spilled secrets between clinking glasses, and made the world outside blur into nothing.

By the third round, Ti’ad was flushed and glowing, legs draped over Sykho’s lap as they leaned into each other, trading lazy grins and slurred teases. He murmured something into her ear and she nearly choked on her drink. “You’re an idiot,” she laughed, clutching the bottle.

He only smirked, stood without warning, and hoisted her into his arms like it was nothing. She yelped, clutching his shoulder with one hand, the Spotchka in the other. “Don’t spill it,” he teased, eyes dancing.