C65 Drunken

Arun was lying on his futon, staring at the ceiling, when he heard the slow, uneven footsteps in the hall. Heavy. Hesitant. Not the quiet, measured pace of the staff.

The door slid open without warning.

Riku stood there, tie undone, his usually sharp composure softened by the faint sway in his stance. A half-empty glass of sake dangled loosely in his hand.

Arun bolted upright