3:42 PM. Atreus's eyes flutter open to the slightly dimmed LED lights hovering over him. The morning had been so mentally draining, on top of the fact he only had six hours of sleep prior, he ended up dozing off on the sofa in Ryuji's office. He dazedly sits up to look around the room to find that Ryuji and Devin are gone. Both his phone and Takiyama's are resting on the coffee table, the former displaying a small hologram icon of an arrived text message. He grabs and checks the time; he had been out like a light for just over three whole hours, a naptime length that's rather rare for him to reach.

[Hey, just sending this to let you know in case you wake up while we're gone: aniki and I went out to have lunch,] the text, from Devin, explains. [We'll stop by Shohei's and Takahashi's to bring you back some food, so sit tight and don't go anywhere.]

The message was sent only thirty minutes ago. Atreus assumes they might still be in the middle of their meals at the moment, so his own might still be about an hour off. He takes the opportunity to shake off his lethargy by standing up and arching his back in a stretch, and walking out into the empty fifth floor hallway, crossing the path and into an empty meeting room that houses a single ten-foot-long ebony table with no chairs.

Since founding his own family, Ryuji always had the intention of using the space for the eventual time where they were large enough to need a dedicated meeting room for himself, his lieutenants, and the patriarchs of any subsidiary families he may bring underneath the Asano umbrella. However, such a dream is likely years off, as Ryuji isn't as interested in constant growth as he is in sustaining what he currently has. Atreus wipes his alloy fingertips across the surface of the untouched table, causing a visible streak in the middle of all the compacted dust it had collected over the months. It's in otherwise perfect condition, but it'll take time before it sees any use for what it was intended for. Until that day comes, the leadership of the Asano family rests merely on Ryuji, Atreus, and Devin, who simply spend their free time waiting for the next task in the former's own office.

A familiar tune is suddenly heard; his phone blares the sound of yet another incoming text message. Partially expecting it to be Devin announcing his and Ryuji's return from lunch, he checks it eagerly with his empty stomach in mind, having been in too much of a rush in the morning to partake in any sort of breakfast. However, when his eyes meet the screen, he sees the new message is actually from Max.

[Hey, whatcha up to?] she cordially asks, looking for simple small talk.

[I'm waiting for lunch to arrive. You?] Atreus obliges, having nothing else to do but wait – for multiple things.

[Woke up about half an hour ago. Now I'm having a hearty breakfast of ice cream and granola bars. I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no, I don't usually eat like this.]

[Well, my lunch is going to be sliders from Shohei's and more donuts from Takahashi, so I can't judge too much. I guess we're both just eating lazily today.]

[It's just one of those days, huh?] Max asks with clearly tongue-in-cheek intent.

[It really is,] Atreus answers honestly, unbeknownst to her that his day had truly been taxing, and in ways that a civilian wouldn't normally realize.

[So, what's your night looking like tonight, after your shift? Wanna do something together?]

Atreus, despite wanting to give an inviting answer, can't do so. Not only does he have a promised meeting with the alleged witness at an undetermined time, he also needs to meet with Okada at 11 PM, causing him to leave work early. He had even forgotten about it until now.

[I... don't think I can hang out after work tonight, either,] he answers truthfully, though doing so causes a sting of guilt. [I'll have to leave the club early for something important again. I'm sorry.] He tries to apologize, but worries that she might perceive his constant postponing as an attempt to avoid her.

[Man, you're really breaking my balls here. What's a girl gotta do to get you to come around?] she plays it off with a lighthearted tone, but a tinge of truthful frustration can be detected beneath it.

[Honestly, you being you is more than enough. I just have a ton of urgent stuff to do that I'm not allowed to ignore. This past week has been one of the busiest of my life, and not because I wanted it to be, trust me.] Atreus tries to hopefully ease her thoughts on his delays, but still feels like his words are inadequate. He wants to be transparent, but knows that he can't.

[Hey, I take your word for it,] Max, thankfully, gives an understanding reply. [You don't strike me as someone who makes excuses.]

[I appreciate that. Hopefully soon we can have a day to ourselves. Once I'm done with all this busywork, you'll be the first to know. I promise,] Atreus says, hoping he's able to live up to his words, not because he thinks himself fickle, but because he doesn't truly know when this investigation will end. He feels closer to a resolution than ever, but can't possibly be certain on when and where it'll finally be done.

[Good! That's all I need to hear. I'm gonna start getting ready for my shift. I'll see you at the club, okay?]

[Yeah, see you later.]

Though he feels like he was able to prevent a disaster, Atreus also feels less than content with how his budding romance with Max is progressing. He deeply wishes that his obligations to the clan don't ruin his relationship with her before it has truly even begun. His ties to the criminal underworld had already demolished one before, and for a repeat to occur with little effort would be a devastating blow to his outlook on his future.

For a man who has little interest in climbing the hierarchy, having his romantic prospects dashed despite no appetite for power leaves him with a lot to desire. Has he reached the point where he longs for the life of a normal civilian? Or is his membership in the Sanada-gumi too half-hearted, and thus he should he go all-in on ascending the clan ladder? He isn't completely sure yet, though it's an argument that remained subtly consistent in the back of his mind for the last two years.

Not long after his short text exchange with Max, Devin and Ryuji finally return to the Asano family building, carrying with them two separate bags that make up Atreus's highly anticipated lunch. From Shohei's, three triple bacon sliders with blue cheese, and a medium helping of seasoned fries. For his dessert, from Takahashi's, one triple chocolate donut, one chocolate and caramel, and one blueberry glazed. All of this is accompanied by a single twenty-ounce bottle of water to wash it all down. It's not a healthy meal by any stretch of the imagination, but a delicious one he selfishly feels he deserves to indulge in.

He's able to complete most of his meal before needing to leave for his impending shift at Crown. Atreus leaves the remainder of his food at Ryuji's office before taking off to the club, at which he arrives a few minutes past the hour. Clerks and servers do last minute cleaning and organizing before they open their doors for the evening, polishing the wooden floor and wiping down the booth tables. The gangster makes his way to the employee-only areas behind a door located next to the stage. He makes his usual approach to the break room, and finds the familiar face he expected to see: Max, sitting alone at a table, listlessly watching television with two mugs of tea sitting in front of her.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

She sports her signature blue-on-black colors in the form of a blue quilted vest over a black sweater with pushed up sleeves, black denim pants that are a snug fit, and black heeled boots. Overall, she's dressed a bit more conservatively than usual, but the aesthetic still suits her. She looks up at him, greeting his arrival with a welcoming smile.

“What's up?” she greets with her effortlessly easy-going demeanor.

“No nickname today?” Atreus asks as he approaches the table to join her.

“I ran out faster than I thought I would,” Max admits with a shrug and wry smirk. “Here, have some tea.” She slides one of the mugs forward, offering it to her coworker. It's still hot enough for steam to be clearly seen rising from the surface of the greenish beverage.

“Thanks,” Atreus accepts the mug, giving a small sip.

“So, how's your day been?”

“Another day of running around Los Angeles, doing things I don't want to do,” he vaguely explains, wishing he could emphasize the last part of his statement more without seeming odd.

“Running errands for your bosses or something like that?”

“Something like that.”

“You sound more like a personal assistant than a gangster,” Max teases.

“That's probably a more apt description than I care to admit,” Atreus confesses, considering his relationship with Okada.

“Atreus?” a familiar voice calls out from behind. It's Jacob, dressed in his clerk uniform, standing in the doorway.

“What's up?” the gangster asks, turned in his seat.

“The manager wants to see you,” Jacob gives a succinct order before turning on his heel and walking back to the club floor before Atreus can even ask why he's needed.

“I wonder what this is about,” Max wonders aloud.

“I think I have an idea,” Atreus remarks while standing. “I'll be right back.”

He exits the break room, leaving his steamy cup of tea on the table. He walks out of the employee-only area and back into the club, past the stage, and up the stairs to the VIP section, turning at the top step towards a grey door in the wall that connects to a short, empty hallway of blue and white vinyl tile and off-white walls that leads to one place: the manager's office. He knocks thrice on the opaque glass of the closed door, which bares 'Floor Manager, Hiroyuki Aiba' in tall, thin black lettering.

“Come in!” a low voice announces from the other side almost immediately.

Atreus opens the door and walks in. The office interior boasts an expensive aesthetic that more compliments the club than it does the drab hallway it's connected to. Upon entering, he immediately slips off his shoes, a rule the floor manager presses on visitors. Even through his socks, he can feel the softness of the black carpet beneath his feet, which feels almost velvety. The bright, white LED ceiling lights illuminate the royal blue walls covered in expensive paintings, and the polished, varnished ebony desk in the center of the room, where Mr. Aiba himself sits. He's a slender middle-aged man in a black suit, blue tie, and with a fade buzz cut and beard that traces his jawline, trimmed to a pencil-thin width, and connects to an equally-groomed goatee.

“Atreus, come over here,” Aiba, from the comfort of his cushioned black leather chair beckons his employee over without prying his eyes from his computer.

“Yes?” Atreus asks after approaching the desk, ignoring the chairs next to him and opting to stand.

Aiba finally faces his employee and leans forward. “As he probably told you by now, Mr. Asano gave me a call about your employment here, and asked that you be relieved at the end of the week. Said that we've been eating into your time doing jobs for the family. I'll admit, I was hesitant to let you go, but you were only given to us as a favor, so it isn't my position to make demands. With that, your last day will be Friday, and once your shift is over then, you'll no longer have to come in.”

“I understand. It is somewhat difficult fulfilling obligations to my family while being tied up with work here, but I appreciate the experience. It was a pleasure working here, sir.” Atreus, while honest at first, finishes with a white lie while punctuating it with a deep bow.

“Well, it was a pleasure to have you. There's been less trouble being stirred up in the month you've been here, and you've barely had to lift a finger. You made this place safer by just standing around and looking tough with those arms of yours.”

Aiba tries to show his gratitude, and although Atreus appreciates the intent, he can't help but he can't help but also feel slightly annoyed at the lack of acknowledgment for the obnoxious and sometimes physically rambunctious behavior of VIP guests. Admittedly, Aiba likely isn't happy that he needs to turn the other cheek about such conduct either, but a little communication can go a long way when it comes to easing the worries of one's employees.

“Anyways, I should start looking for your replacement in the meantime,” Aiba concludes, turning back to his computer. “Oh, and before I forget,” he starts again, lifting a finger before Atreus can turn and leave, “as a token of appreciation, your employee discount will still be valid for another two weeks after you leave.”

“Thank you, sir,” Atreus says while giving another bow. He probably won't take advantage of it much, but it's a nice gesture, even though the discount is only applicable to the base fee and not any of the food or drinks.

With the conversation over, the gangster turns and exits the office after slipping his shoes back on. Atreus had rarely exchanged words with Aiba since his first day at Crown. After his initial introduction, it was mostly Jacob, the manager's nephew, who showed him the ropes and got him situated. This flaccid, anti-climactic final meeting was to be expected, but though he may be a somewhat detached boss, he's not inept. The club brings in a consistent profit, and none of the employees feel particularly miserable working here, other than security who are stationed in the VIP section, but that feeling quickly subsides once the night is finished.

Atreus soon returns to the break room, where Max is still sitting in the same spot, drinking from the same mug as she was when he left the room. He sits back down at the table and resumes enjoying his thankfully still-steamy tea as if he had never left.

“So?” Max asks, expecting an explanation to satisfy her curiosity. “What did he want to see you about?”

“Well...” Atreus sits up after a small sip of his warm beverage. “I'm gonna finally leave Crown at the end of the week,” he answers bluntly in as little words as possible.

“No shit?” Max leans back, showing some surprise even though she knew this was temporary. “So, Friday's your last shift, then?”

He nods. “Yeah. After that, I'm outta here. It's about time; I ended up staying here for twice as long as I was supposed to. Oh, and he said my employee discount will still be valid for two weeks after I'm gone.”

“Ah, so I might still see you around here yet, huh?” she asks, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

“Maybe. I'll be sure to ask for you when I'm around as a customer.” Atreus gives a casual promise as he sets his mug down after another sip of tea.

“It'll be lonely, sitting out in the break room with no one to talk to for nearly an hour. Again,” Max complains with a small sigh, but her attitude changes as she leans forward and places her hands on his cold synthetic arms, looking up at him with a wanting gaze. “But we can make up for lost time outside of the club, anyway.”

Atreus reciprocates by placing his free hand on top of one of hers. “Hopefully sooner rather than later, but it kinda depends on my schedule.”

“You know, for a criminal, you sure have a lot of work to do,” she teases with a smile.

“Not because I asked for it,” he guiltily admits as a self-deprecating smirk crosses his face. He glances down at the surface of the table, where their arms and hands are slightly intertwined – her two hands reaching across the table to rest on his right forearm, and his left hand resting on her right. The augmented man's face subtly becomes more stern as he silently laments the fact that despite his arms offering haptic feedback, the sensation of human skin on them still doesn't feel the same as it did with his natural limbs. It's possibly the last aspect of his prosthetics that he still hasn't gotten completely used to.