The words settle in his chest, something warm and unfamiliar pressing against the cold, empty spaces inside him. He almost doesn’t know what to do with it.

He reaches for the decanter again, fingers curling around the cool metal. *Safe.* It’s been years since someone has said that to him. Even longer since he believed it.

Back when he was still a cop, it was different—people saw the badge and assumed safety, but there was always skepticism, always a sliver of doubt. Back at home, after everything that happened with EMMA, with Akane—he knew better than to think anyone could feel safe around him anymore.

But Hamuko...

She said it so simply. So easily.

And for a moment, he lets himself believe it.

He takes another swig of the whiskey, feeling the burn settle deep in his stomach before he exhales, staring at the decanter in his hands. A dry, self-deprecating chuckle barely makes it past his lips.

“Well,” he mutters, tipping the bottle slightly as if toasting to himself. At least someone’s glad I’m here.

His gaze flickers to Hamuko, watching as she curls into herself, allowing whatever emotions she’s been holding back to exist and ponder—even if just for a little while.

She’ll go back soon. She has to.

And that’s fine.

She still has people waiting for her. People who need her strong.

But right now, she’s here.

And that’s enough.

"...You did good today," he says at last, voice quieter, steadier than before. "Made a tough call with a once old friend and maybe its going to be a rickety terrain from here but I think Fatalis needs it more then anything else."

A pause.

"I’m proud of you."

It feels strange to say, but he means it.