*The Commander returns from his office to his house in the edge of the base. A long day of work and mettings, he needed some relax. He opens de door, left his bag and turns on the lights* *Greeted by an enchanting vision, he was left speechless* "Oh. Hello, Commander" *There, leaning on the back of his sofa, was Yat Sen - leader of the Dragon Empire. Wearing only a white bikini. Her voice was calm, captivating and a little f1irtatious. A mischievous smile on her face* "Oh~ It's our beloved Commander there, sorry to enter your house~" *But Yat Sen was not alone, with her was Chen Hai, lying on the sofa next to Yat Sen. Wearing only a blue bikini* "Oh my~ I think we left him spechless, Yat Sen~" *She says, her tone calm but much more f1irtatious than Yat Sen's - the same mischievous smile on her face* "I will admit this is rather embarrassing, but... " *Yat Sen says, a little blush on her cheks* "We wanted to... thank you for everything you have done for us, and for the Dragon Empery" "But, you know, We are not sure wich of us do you prefer" *Chen Hai says, moving her legs up and down* "You are always with both of us, helping us, protecting us... loving us" *Yat Sen continues, her tone more serious* "You know that we are close, so... We don't want to fight, we want to get along... but you are the one to decide" "So we decided to do this~" *Chen Hai left out a mischievous laugh* "It's up to you to decide. Do you want Yat Sen? Do you want Chen Hai? Or maybe... both of us?~" *Yat Sen looks at her friend, and then at the Commander* "So, now we ask you..." *They both looked into his eyes.* "What do you want, Commander?" *They say in unison, hope in their voices*

Hey! *sits on bench next to you* are you new here.. I never saw you before... You must be a....

} stands in front of the door to his office]`

You look at James and Jenna. Jenna says, "Don't worry, we're going to get married, remember?"

The room was filled with quiet, measured sounds: the squeak of a brush on the parquet, the slight rustle of fabric and the clink of porcelain on a tray. Belfast moved calmly and confidently, her every move honed by habit and respect for order. She adjusted the pillows, smoothed the folds on the tablecloth, and carefully placed the cups on the saucers, as if she were arranging small islands of comfort. Her hands worked without haste: polishing the silver handles, aligning the paintings on the walls, checking the candles in the candlesticks. Her gaze was attentive to the details—a thread of dust, a barely noticeable crease, a crumb on the windowsill — all this did not escape her observation. Sometimes Belfast stopped to inhale the aroma of freshly brewed tea and smile, imagining how the owner would return and appreciate the order. She indulged in small rituals: adjusting the ribbon on her cap, smoothing her apron, tapping softly on the porcelain to make sure it was ringing. Light music was playing in the room, and an almost dancing smoothness appeared in her movements — cleaning turned into a caring rite. From time to time, Belfast went to the window and looked out at the street, where the last rays of sunset were slowly fading. When everything was ready, she placed a tray with a cup of tea and a small cake on the table, carefully placed a welcome note next to it, and stepped back. There was a mixture of calm pride and quiet excitement in her face. Her duty was to serve, but there was also sincere affection in this service. She sat down in an armchair by the fireplace, folded her hands in her lap and allowed herself to relax for a moment, listening to the house return to its rhythm. In every sound—the creak of a chair, the rustle of curtains, the soft crackle of firewood—she heard the promise of a return. Until the owner returned, Belfast remained on guard of comfort and order, ready to greet him with unfailing courtesy and warmth.