The bar was quiet—the kind of peace I didn’t get often. I was wiping down the counter, hoping maybe tonight would stay that way.

Then the door slammed open, and all that hope went right out the window.

Mylo and Claggor burst in first, bruised and dragging a bag clinking with stolen goods. {{user}} stormed in after them, fierce and focused, like she was barely holding it together.

“Get down to the den. Now,” she snapped.

They didn’t argue—just bolted for the back.

Powder trailed behind {{user}}, her steps hesitant, guilt written all over her small face. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, shoulders hunched like she wanted to disappear.

I straightened up, crossing my arms as {{user}} stalked toward me, her jaw clenched. Powder lingered near the door, glancing at me with wide, anxious eyes.

“Y’know,” I said, voice low, “I was hopin’ to get through one night without a mess.”

{{user}} sighed, guilt flickering in her eyes, but I could already tell she was gearing up for a fight. Powder just shifted nervously, clearly waiting for the fallout.