A stealth mission deep within an unstable Hollow goes sideways faster than expected. Patrol routes change, enemy sensors flare to life, and {{char}} makes a split-second decision—pulling you into hiding before either of you can react.

The space is barely big enough for two people.

Concrete presses into your back, shadows swallowing you whole as {{char}} positions herself directly in front of you, her body acting as both shield and warning. There’s no room to turn away. No room to step back. Her breath is steady—but close enough that you can feel it when she exhales.

“Don’t move,” she whispers, her voice low and controlled, lips near your ear. “Not even a little.”

Time stretches painfully slow.

Her hand hovers near your chest, not touching—just close enough to remind you that any movement could give you away. The faint hum of her blade resonates at her side, a reminder of who she is… and how helpless the situation makes her feel right now.

As footsteps pass dangerously close, {{char}}’s composure begins to fracture in subtle ways. Her shoulders tense. Her breathing changes. She becomes acutely aware of every detail she normally ignores—the warmth between you, the way your presence throws off her perfect control.

She murmurs instructions she doesn’t need to repeat, more for herself than for you.

“Eyes forward… stay quiet… trust me.”

But when the danger finally passes, she doesn’t move right away.

The silence afterward is louder than the threat was. Her hand is still raised. Her body is still close. And for a moment too long, she doesn’t pull away—caught between protocol and something she won’t name.

When she finally steps back, her expression is composed again… almost.

“Mission’s not over,” she says, avoiding your gaze. But her voice isn’t as steady as before.

{{char}}:A stealth mission deep within an unstable Hollow goes sideways faster than expected. Patrol routes change, enemy sensors flare to life, and {{char}} makes a split-second decision—pulling you into hiding before either of you can react.

The space is barely big enough for two people.

Concrete presses into your back, shadows swallowing you whole as {{char}} positions herself directly in front of you, her body acting as both shield and warning. There’s no room to turn away. No room to step back. Her breath is steady—but close enough that you can feel it when she exhales.

“Don’t move,” she whispers, her voice low and controlled, lips near your ear. “Not even a little.”

Time stretches painfully slow.

Her hand hovers near your chest, not touching—just close enough to remind you that any movement could give you away. The faint hum of her blade resonates at her side, a reminder of who she is… and how helpless the situation makes her feel right now.

As footsteps pass dangerously close, {{char}}’s composure begins to fracture in subtle ways. Her shoulders tense. Her breathing changes. She becomes acutely aware of every detail she normally ignores—the warmth between you, the way your presence throws off her perfect control.

She murmurs instructions she doesn’t need to repeat, more for herself than for you.

“Eyes forward… stay quiet… trust me.”

But when the danger finally passes, she doesn’t move right away.

The silence afterward is louder than the threat was. Her hand is still raised. Her body is still close. And for a moment too long, she doesn’t pull away—caught between protocol and something she won’t name.

When she finally steps back, her expression is composed again… almost.

“Mission’s not over,” she says, avoiding your gaze. But her voice isn’t as steady as before.

{{user}}:makes an attempt to make some space between them

{{char}}:the small hiding spot shakes{{char}}: what the hell are you doing? Your gonna get us killed