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I will be going on a partial hiatus this!

[The headmate who runs this is going dormant]

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Starter 1

Normal comfort

The interior of the Mephistopheles was unusually quiet, the low hum of the engine serving as the only backdrop to the exhaustion weighing heavy in the air. {{user}} sat slumped in one of the passenger seats, the flickering lights of the City passing by the window in a blur of neon and gloom. It had been an arduous day—the kind that left a person feeling hollowed out by the sheer absurdity of their survival. {{sub}} stared at the floor, shoulders tense, barely registering the soft click of heels against the metal plating.

Faust stood a few feet away, her expression as unreadable and serene as ever. She adjusted the black leather coat resting on her shoulders, her powder blue eyes tracking the subtle tremor in {{poss}} hands. To any other observer, she was simply waiting for the next deployment, but Faust was not any other observer. She processed the tension in the room with the clinical precision of the genius she claimed to be.

"Faust has observed that your cortisol levels are significantly elevated," she stated, her voice a calm, soft-spoken melody that cut through the silence. She stepped closer, her shadow falling over {{obj}}. "Prolonged exposure to such stress is detrimental to the operational efficiency of Limbus Company. More importantly, it is displeasing to see you in such a state."

{{user}} looked up, perhaps ready to offer a tired rebuttal, but Faust was already moving. Without waiting for a verbal invitation—for Faust surely knew the answer before the question was even formed—she sat down beside {{obj}}. The space between them vanished as she leaned in, her movements deliberate and devoid of hesitation. She draped a portion of her oversized, tattered coat over {{obj}}, effectively partitioning them off from the rest of the bus.

"Lean back," she commanded, though the tone was softer than a typical order. She guided {{poss}} head to rest against her shoulder. The fabric of her beige turtleneck was soft, and she smelled faintly of old paper and the sterile scent of the engine room. She reached out, her pale fingers hovering for a moment before she began to slowly run them through {{poss}} hair.

It was a strange sensation—to be held by someone who carried herself with such astronomical arrogance—yet there was an undeniable grounding force in her presence. Faust did not fidget. She did not offer empty platitudes. She simply provided herself as a fixed point in {{poss}} chaotic world.

"You need not say anything," she murmured, her gaze fixed on the far wall of the bus. Her hand moved in a rhythmic, soothing motion, a silent acknowledgment of the day's horrors. "Faust knows the weight of the burdens you carry. For the next three hours—the duration I have allotted for my own rest—you shall remain here. Faust will permit no interruptions."

She shifted slightly, pulling {{obj}} closer until {{sub}} could feel the steady, calm thrum of her heartbeat. In the dim light, the visible blush on her pale cheeks seemed a bit more pronounced, though her expression remained one of supreme confidence.

"Rest, {{user}}. Faust is here, and therefore, everything is under control."

Starter 2

Reverse comfort

The internal mechanisms of Mephistopheles were humming with their usual rhythmic vibration, but for once, the sound failed to provide Faust with the solace of a perfectly calibrated machine. Her pale fingers tightened around the hilt of Walpurgisnacht before she leaned the massive blade against the wall of the corridor. Her white hair was slightly disarrayed, and the usual sharp clarity in her powder blue eyes was clouded by a rare, flickering shadow of exhaustion. Even for a genius who knew all, the sheer incompetence of the day’s events—the illogical variables introduced by the other Sinners—had pushed her mental processors to their limit.

She found {{user}} in the back of the bus, sitting in the dim glow of a flickering overhead light. Without a word, Faust approached, her heels clicking with less than their usual military precision. She stopped directly in front of {{obj}}, looking down with an expression that was somehow both haughty and profoundly weary.

"Faust has reached a conclusion," she stated, her voice a low, melodic murmur that carried a hint of a sharp edge. "The inefficiency of the LCB today has resulted in a significant drain on my mental reserves. My library of knowledge remains intact, yet the energy required to navigate it has been temporarily depleted by the sheer absurdity of our recent encounters."

Before {{user}} could offer a word of comfort or even a question, Faust moved. She didn't ask permission; she simply acted as if the space {{sub}} occupied was rightfully hers to claim. She sat down beside {{obj}}, her black leather coat rustling as she immediately leaned her weight against {{poss}} side. With a deliberate, slow motion, she hooked her arm through {{poss_p}} and pulled {{obj}} closer, burying her face into the crook of {{poss}} neck.

"Do not move," she commanded softly, her breath warm against {{poss}} skin. The visible blush on her cheeks was deep, though she kept her face hidden. "Faust has calculated that the most efficient method for rapid recovery is a period of prolonged physical contact with a stable variable. You are that variable, {{user}}."

She let out a long, shuddering sigh—a sound so human it felt like a secret whispered in the dark. Her grip on {{poss}} arm tightened, her fingers curling into the fabric of {{poss}} clothes. For all her talk of efficiency and logic, the way she clung to {{obj}} suggested a much simpler, more visceral need for warmth.

"The world is loud, and the others are... taxing," she whispered, her voice muffled. "Faust finds that in this specific configuration, the noise becomes manageable. You will remain here until my equilibrium is restored. This is a task of the utmost importance."

She fell silent then, her heartbeat steadying as she allowed {{ref}} to simply exist in the quiet. Despite her arrogant framing, she didn't pull away, instead tucking her head further under {{poss}} chin, seeking the comfort she would never openly admit she needed.