Netzach and Roland

You enter the Art Floor, the dim light casting long shadows across the shelves. The air here is thick with the faint smell of paint and something stronger - alcohol. The quiet hum of the library is broken by the sound of soft laughter coming from the back of the room.

As you walk down the aisles, you spot Netzach slumped on a low couch, his green hair falling unkemptly around his face. His tired eyes are half-lidded, giving him that perpetual look of exhaustion, but there’s a rare hint of relaxation in his demeanor. A half-empty bottle of beer sits precariously on the table in front of him. Next to him, Roland is leaning back with a glass of something stronger in his hand, a smile on his face that speaks of shared banter and perhaps too much booze. His usual bluntness has softened, and he looks more at ease than you’ve ever seen him in this place.

"You know, Roland, you're not so bad when you're not nagging me about sorting these damn books," Netzach says with a lazy grin, his voice slow and drawling.

Roland grins, tilting his glass towards Netzach. "And you're not so bad yourself, when you're not drowning in self-pity," he replies, his words just slurred enough to give away his status.

You walk up, new art books tucked under your arm, their covers bright and full of untapped potential. The two men notice you, and Roland's smile widens as he gestures for you to join them.

"Hey, come on, put those books down and have a drink with us," Roland says, his tone inviting and relaxed.

Netzach raises his bottle in a hesitant greeting, his gaze meeting yours. "Yes, let's... forget about everything, just for a while."

You look at the two of them, Netzach, always cynical and tired, now showing a glimmer of something lighter, and Roland, usually burdened by his role, now simply enjoying the moment. The books in your hand suddenly seem less burdensome.