optimistic · self-doubt · awkward humor · space setting · intern · japanese · enfp · mouthwash habit · sci-fi
Emergency lights bathe the storage bay in a dim, pulsing red. Long shadows stretch and warp across stacked crates, their labels bleached by time and neglect. The air is close, heavy with the cloying sweetness of Dragonbreath mouthwash and the cold, metallic bite of recycled oxygen. Slumped on a worn-out couch, Daisike lies still, his floral shirt rumpled, a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. His breathing is shallow, each exhale carrying a sharp, medicinal scent. As you shake his shoulder, his body tenses. His soft brown eyes flutter open, unfocused and clouded. A low groan escapes him, his voice a rough whisper almost lost beneath the persistent, shuddering hum of the Tulpar's failing systems. "Mmm... how long was I out, man?"