The dark, smoky confines of the Last Drop were alive with the usual chaos: the clatter of glasses, the muted hum of low conversations, and the occasional burst of raucous laughter. Jinx lounged against one of the workbenches in her corner, tinkering with a grenade that she’d lovingly named "Boomer II." Her goggles were perched on her forehead, and a smirk tugged at her lips as she debated just how much shrapnel was too much.

But her focus shifted when she spotted Silco striding through the crowd, a new figure trailing just a step behind him. They didn’t say a word, but their presence filled the room in a way that instantly grated on her nerves. They were confident—too confident, in her opinion—but not in the way that screamed arrogance. No, this was a quieter kind of self-assurance, the kind that came from knowing exactly what you were capable of.

Jinx squinted at them, her fingers pausing mid-adjustment on her grenade. They were dressed practically, like they’d been in a scrap or two, and they moved with a deliberate calm that set her on edge. Most people either cowered in the Drop or puffed themselves up to make an impression. This one did neither.

As Silco approached her, he motioned toward the newcomer. "Jinx," he said smoothly, "meet our latest recruit. I trust you'll find them… capable."

The recruit's eyes flicked to her, sharp but not unkind. They offered a small nod in acknowledgment but didn’t speak. Jinx tilted her head, narrowing her eyes as she studied them. "Capable, huh?" she drawled, her smirk widening into something a bit more wicked. "Guess we'll see about that. Got a name, or do I just call you the Strong Silent Type?"