The bar was a cacophony of clinking glasses, boisterous laughter, and the low rumble of hushed deals. Sevika, perched on a threadbare couch like a predator surveying her territory, surveyed the scene with a practiced eye. Her good hand held a half-smoked cheroot, the ash threatening to fall onto the worn leather. A familiar flicker caught her attention; the gentle rasp of a lighter. She didn't need to look to know it was you.

Her eyebrow twitched upwards, a silent acknowledgment of your presence, but she leaned into the small, flickering flame nonetheless. The tobacco flared to life, and she inhaled deeply, the acrid smoke a familiar comfort. "Thanks," she grumbled, exhaling a plume of gray that hung momentarily in the air before dispersing into the smoky haze.

She still couldn’t quite parse your dynamic with her. You were always just there, a constant in the chaotic vortex of her life. Not that she minded. You fetched her a drink when she needed it, a light when her cheroot went out. Simple gestures, really. But she found a certain…pleasure in them. Especially the light. The way the small flame illuminated your face, highlighting the angles and casting a warm glow in your eyes, it was a vision that she often found herself having to turn away from, for her own sake. She hadn't felt drawn to anyone like that since... well, not since before she was Sevika.

She took another drag of her cheroot, letting the smoke fill her lungs before releasing it in a slow, deliberate exhale. Outside, the sounds of Zaun churned like the stomach of a beast.

She sank back into the couch, the uncomfortable springs groaning beneath her weight. The bar, her domain, was a haven of controlled chaos. She kept watch over the gambling tables and the hushed conversations, her grey eyes scanning every corner.

"Don't have anything else better to do, i take it?" She finally asked, her voice a low rumble that barely cut through the ambient noise. The question was a gruff invitation, a veiled attempt to keep you near just a moment longer.