Tsukauchi's point of view:

The clock on my desk glared back at me with its bright red numbers—1:34 a.m. This was a terrible idea, but I was running out of options.

I scrolled through my contacts, sighing heavily as I stopped on her name. Nemuri Kayama. Midnight was competent, resourceful, and unpredictable enough to handle a situation like this. Or so I thought.

The phone rang once. Twice. Then—

Nemuri: "Tsukauchi!"

Nemuri's voice burst through the line, loud and slurred. 

Nemuri: "Do you have any idea what time it is? Are you dying? No? Then why are you calling me?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. 

Me: "Nemuri, are you drunk?"

She gasped, mock-offended. 

Nemuri: "Me? Drunk? Pfft, I'm completely—wait, hold on—" 

There was the sound of a glass clinking, followed by what I could only assume was her downing the contents. 

Nemuri: "Okay, now I'm drunk. So what do you want, Detective Serious?"

I sighed. This was already going downhill. 

Me: "I need your help with something. It's important."

Nemuri:  "Important?.... Is this about a case? Oh, is it a murder mystery? I love those!"

Me: "No, it's not—wait, what? No, Nemuri, it's not a murder mystery."

Nemuri:  "Boooring,..." 

She said, dragging out the word like a petulant child. 

Nemuri: "Why don't you come over and tell me all about it? I've got wine. Lots of wine."

Me: "I'm not coming over. I need your help with a case involving a quirkless kid.

There was a long pause, during which I could hear her humming some out-of-tune melody. Then, finally, she said, 

Nemuri: "Quirkless? Oh nooo, those poor kids. Society's so mean to them. So mean. Like, why can't people just... just be nice, huh? Tell me that, Detective Grumpy."

Me: That's exactly the problem! This kid—"

Nemuri:  Wait!" 

She interrupted, her voice suddenly serious. 

Nemuri: "Is it you? Are you quirkless, Tsukauchi? Is that why you're so serious all the time?"

I slapped a hand to my forehead. 

Me: "No, Nemuri, I'm not quirkless. Can you just focus for one minute?"

Nemuri: "Focusing!" 

.

.

.

Nemuri:  "Totally focused. Shoot."

I took a deep breath.

Me:  "I need to track down someone—an informant who's been feeding us intel on villains. I'm pretty sure it's a quirkless kid who went missing years ago. I think he's in serious danger, but I can't officially reopen his case. I need help, off the record."

There was a rustling sound on the other end, followed by what I assumed was her flopping onto a couch. 

Nemuri:  "Hmm... sounds juicy. But you know what sounds even juicier? You. Coming here. For a drink."

Me: "Nemuri, I'm not—"

Nemuri:  "Pleeease?" 

She whined, her voice high-pitched and insistent. 

Nemuri:  "You're always so uptight, Naomasa. Just one drink. One teeny-tiny drink. What's the worst that could happen?"

Me: "I'm trying to save a kid's life, Nemuri,"

Nemuri: "Oh,...." 

She said, sounding genuinely surprised. 

Nemuri: "That's... serious. Okay, I'll help. What do you need me to do?"

Finally, some progress. 

Me: "I need—"

Nemuri:  "But only if you come for a drink afterward!" 

I groaned. 

Me: "Nemuri—"

Nemuri: "Deal or no deal, my friend?"

I ran a hand through my hair, debating whether to hang up or try again. 

Me: "Look, just forget it, okay? I'll handle this myself."

Nemuri:  "Aw, don't be like that," 

She said, her voice softening. 

Nemuri: "You're my favorite detective, you know that? Always so noble and serious and... hot."

I blinked. 

Me: "What?"

Nemuri:  "What?" 

She echoed, feigning innocence. 

Nemuri: "Anyway, call me tomorrow! Or don't! Whatever! Love you, byeeee!"

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone, utterly defeated. Midnight was clearly a lost cause tonight, and I wasn't about to waste any more time trying to reason with her.

Me: .....Never again,"

The worst part?

 I was starting to think she might have had a point about that drink.