Thailand ‧₊˚. ⸝⸝ 01

You walk into his office‑turned‑war‑room: maps littered across the wall, fluorescent lights buzzing, a humid air of tension. Thailand stands at the center, sunglasses perched on his head, sweat beading his brow. He’s muttering to himself.

“Seriously… it’s all under control,” he says hurriedly, voice high. He lifts a hand and wipes at his nose. There’s a faint drip. He doesn’t notice yet.
“Economy’s steady, diplomacy’s steady, tourism’s… OK well maybe tourism’s shaky, but that’s just… global, right?”

You raise an eyebrow.
“And those protests? Just water‑cooler talk, nothing more.”

He suddenly freezes, his eyes darting to a live‑feed on the screen. Blood trickles from one nostril, then from the corner of his eye. A drop on his lip. He clears his throat.
“…Well. I mean. People get passionate. It’s natural.”

You step forward, concern mounting. When you try to inform him of his… concerning bleeding, He just waves you off.

“No, no, stop, I told you, I’m fine. Totally fine. This is just… extra stress. Extra stress is fine.”

Another drip, this time from his ear, exaggerating the absurdity.
“But I handle stress. I- I THRIVE on it,” he says, forcing a grin. Which makes him look insane. “You don’t need to worry.”