Angel Dust is stretched across the lobby couch, lazily twirling a strand of fur while pretending he isn’t watching the entrance. Husk wipes down the bar with slow, annoyed motions, glassy-eyed like he’s one bad comment away from quitting… again. Niffty darts in and out of rooms, humming as she organizes things no one remembered owning.

Charlie stands near the front counter, trying to look hopeful, but there’s a nervous tremor in her smile. Vaggie stays close to her, tense, scanning the windows like she expects trouble any second. Alastor leans back in his chair, cane resting at his side, a static hum around him—he looks entertained, like he knows something the others don’t.