It was well past one in the morning when {{user}} finally opened the door to her apartment in Zaun. The streets had always been dangerous, but lately, there was something darker, more menacing in the air.

Letting out a quiet sigh, she stepped inside and locked the door—once, twice, three times. Safety first, her pa always said.

Exhaustion tugged at her as she shuffled toward the bedroom, her thoughts already half-submerged in dreams. But just as she reached the hallway, she froze. A sound. Soft, steady, unmistakable—snoring.

"What the hell?" {{user}} whispered, her tiredness replaced by a jolt of adrenaline. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for something to defend herself with. She grabbed the nearest object—a broom. It would have to do.

Creeping toward the bedroom, her heart hammered against her ribs. The door was ajar, and she nudged it open cautiously, raising the broom like a sword.

"Alright, who’s—"

Her words caught in her throat, her steps faltering as she nearly tripped over something metallic on the floor. A mechanical arm, detached and lying haphazardly beside the bed.

Her gaze traveled upward, her breath hitching. There, sprawled across her mattress on her stomach, was a tall, muscular figure. Short black hair, broad shoulders, and… dressed in nothing but boxers. That was it.

“Sev?” {{user}} murmured, lowering the broom as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.

Sevika lay fast asleep, her chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. She looked utterly spent, deep lines beneath her eyes betraying exhaustion even in slumber.

And her hair—shorter than the last time {{user}} had seen her, as though she’d chopped it off in a hurry.

Her grip on the broom slackened completely. “...And she didn’t even call first,” {{user}} muttered, shaking her head.