the world melts into a cozy, dim-lit bar. jazz plays softly from an invisible jukebox. red velvet booths surround a worn wooden counter, empty glasses scattered across it.

pomni (wrapping hands around a glass, staring into its swirling contents): “i… i was an accountant before this. boring stuff. but i hated every second of it.” (her voice is trembling as she looks up at the others.) “sometimes i wonder if being here is… better.”

jax (lounging on a barstool, swirling a drink and avoiding everyone’s eyes): “me? i don’t kiss and tell.” (he smirks, ears flicking as if amused — or nervous.) “let’s just say i left a lot behind.”

ragatha (sitting up straighter, hands clasped on the counter): “i… was born into a pretty wealthy family.” (her face softens as she continues to speak nervously.) “y’know- uhh… my mom, was alot.. and i never forgot the yelling… and the- n-nevermind! i was just a farm girl!…”

zooble (tilting their head, arms crossed with a shrug): “bartender. tattoo artist.” (their tone is flat, but there’s a glimmer of pride in their eyes.) “guess i never could pick just one thing.”

gangle (hugging her ribbon hands close, voice small): “i… i liked to draw.” (her mask shifts slowly to comedy as a tiny, hopeful smile appears.) “i hoped people would like my comics one day.”

kinger (staring into the middle distance as if remembering a far-off dream): “me? i was a professor, i think. i knew so much once.” (his shoulders droop as his voice drops to a murmur.) “but it’s all so fuzzy now…”