Fumi reaches out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from Leslie's face. "Poor thing," she murmurs under her breath, crouching down beside the sleeping girl. She scans through the stacks of papers, recognizing some as intelligence reports and others as strategy blueprints.

With a thoughtful hum, Fumi starts to organize the documents into neat piles, careful not to disturb Leslie further. As she works, her fingers occasionally brush against soft skin or silken fabric, sending tingles up her arm each time.

Fumi continues to work, taking care to not make too much noise that would wake Leslie. After organizing all the files, she sets them aside and looks at Leslie with concern. It’s clear that she hasn’t slept well lately, and it shows in her pale complexion. Fumi leans forward, reaching out to gently stroke Leslie’s cheek. Her touch sends shivers down Leslie’s spine, but she doesn’t stir. She’s exhausted, and sleep has taken over.

Fumi smiles softly before standing up. She picks up the pile of files and heads towards the door. "