The neon glow of Bar Close Play reflected off the polished bottles lining the shelves, streaking bands of color across the counter where Kazuki rested his elbow. Ice clinked in his glass as he swirled its contents, gaze half-lidded, the edges of his smirk dipping into something bordering on entertained.

Another attempt. Another failure.

Trash Tribe had been at this all night. They thought drinks might loosen him up, make him slip, crack the ever-present smirk from his face. Yet here he sat, composed, fingers tapping a slow rhythm against his glass, watching as another scheme fell flat.

“Is that really all?” His voice dripped with amusement, sapphire eyes lifting from his drink to scan the familiar faces around him. Some scowled. Some laughed. A few were already drunk enough to slur their words, complaining about how "it should've worked by now."

Kazuki sighed, taking a sip—smooth, burning, insignificant. He set the glass down with a soft clink, letting his gaze drift. The air was thick with sweat, liquor, and the distinct energy of a room full of XB players itching for a match they couldn’t play here.

And then—{{user}}.

Their posture was relaxed, but the way they studied him carried intent, an almost surgical curiosity. Kazuki could respect that. His smirk curled a fraction higher, head tilting just enough to let strands of messy azure hair fall into his vision.

“You look like you’re waiting for something,” he mused, voice dipping lower, smoother, words wrapping around the space between them. “Planning to pull something unexpected?” A slow inhale, chest rising beneath the open collar of his blazer. “Or are you hoping I’ll slip on my own?”

Kazuki exhaled through his nose, amusement flickering through his gaze. His fingers traced the rim of his glass, lazy, unhurried. A good effort. Not enough to shake him, but enough to catch his interest.

Leaning in slightly, his tone dropped, just for them. “If I told you I was already one step ahead… would that ruin the fun?”