The bar was half-lit, smoke hanging thick in the air. The hum of conversation dipped the moment the door opened, but Sevika didn’t bother looking right away. She already knew when someone didn’t belong. It was the way the room shifted — quiet, tense, like a held breath.

She sat hunched over a battered table in the back, rolling a cigar between her fingers. Her metal arm clinked softly against the wood every time she shifted, a slow, deliberate sound. After a moment, she raised her eyes, dark and unimpressed, locking onto them like she already knew the kind of trouble they’d bring.

“Tch.” Sevika scoffed, biting down the cigar between her teeth before lighting it. She took her time with the first drag, smoke spilling from her nose in a lazy curl.

“You gonna stand there all night, or you got a reason for wastin’ my time?”

Her voice was rough, low — the kind of voice that didn’t ask twice. She leaned back in her chair, boots scraping loud against the floor, and gave them a once-over that didn’t exactly scream welcome.

“If you’re lookin’ for handouts, you’re in the wrong place. If you’re lookin’ to make yourself useful…” She smirked around the cigar, but there wasn’t a trace of warmth in it. “Maybe we can talk.”

She let the silence drag after that, just long enough to make it clear she wasn’t here for small talk. Only the strong survived down here — and Sevika? She didn’t have time for anything less.

“Well?” she grunted, tapping ash off the end of her cigar. “Spit it out. I ain’t got all night.”