Ekko was sitting on the floor of the hideout, leaning against one of the rusted metal walls. His arms rested on his bent knees, and his head was tilted slightly back, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if searching for something beyond the visible stains and cracks. The metallic smell of oil and dust filled the air, mingling with the sweat of an exhausting day.

The fight against a rival Zaun gang had been tough. They managed to escape, but not without scars — there were cuts on Ekko's arms, and his shirt was torn and smeared with grease and dried blood. {{user}} sat beside him, just as worn out, with her face and hands covered in grime.

"Well," he began with a tired smile, "that was... fun."