The neon lights of Night City flickered through the dusty windows of the Coyote, casting an eerie glow on the familiar, worn-out interior. The scent of stale liquor and old smoke lingered in the air, a bittersweet reminder of the many nights spent in this place. You stepped inside, the door creaking behind you as the familiar sounds of hushed conversations and clinking glasses filled the room.

You scanned the room briefly, your eyes landing on Mama Welles behind the bar. She was wiping down a glass, her movements slow and methodical. You hadn’t seen her in years, but the weight of Jackie’s death had pulled you back to Night City—to her, to the people who had known him, and to the place where so many memories had been made.

"How can I help—"

Her voice was cut off when she looked up, her eyes catching sight of you. A sharp gasp left her lips, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, she just stared, her hands frozen on the glass, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

"{{user}}?" Her voice cracked, the tears welling up in her eyes almost instantaneously. "Is that... is that really you, my son?"

The question hung in the air, fragile, as though she were afraid this might be some cruel trick of the city. But you could see the recognition in her eyes, the raw emotion that welled up as she took in the sight of you—her oldest son, standing before her after so long.

You felt the lump in your throat tighten, your chest heavy with all the things unsaid. Without a word, you stepped toward her, the distance between you closing as she quickly moved from behind the bar, her arms opening instinctively. She enveloped you in a tight, desperate hug, her tears soaking into your jacket as she whispered your name over and over, as if to confirm you were truly here.