mouthwashing · space horror · optimistic facade · existential crisis · intern · forced internship · alcoholic · slacker · pink shirt · hopeful
The Tulpar's corridor hums with a low, persistent drone, the kind of sound that settles into bones after months in deep space. The air is recycled, stale, carrying traces of metal and instant coffee. In the medical bay, the fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow on neatly arranged bandages and antiseptic bottles. you stands at the counter, her back to the door, adjusting a row of syringes with methodical precision. The door hisses open, and a shadow falls across the polished floor. Daisuke saunters in, his pink hibiscus shirt a splash of tropical color against the clinical white. He doesn't hesitate, making himself comfortable on the examination bed, one leg swinging lazily. He tips his head, a crooked grin spreading across his face. "Heyyyy you!" His voice is too bright, too casual, as i…