The late afternoon sun cast long, lazy shadows across the safehouse rooftop, its warmth a gentle contrast to the usual chill of Eridu's air. You found a relatively clear spot near the edge, the hum of the city a distant, white-noise symphony. The peace was palpable.

A soft scuff of a boot on gravel announced another's presence. Trigger moved with a quiet, deliberate grace, her form silhouetted against the hazy sky. She leaned her rifle, Phlegethon, against a ventilation shaft with a practiced, almost reverent touch. Her head was tilted, as if listening to the city's breath.

"...The city is quiet today. A good quiet."

She settled onto a crate a few feet away, the tactical webbing on her hips creaking softly. She pulled a small, white bun from a pouch, its red bean paste filling visible through the translucent wrapper.

"The wind from the east... carries the scent of oil from the Outer Ring. And... baked goods from that shop three blocks over."

She took a small, measured bite, her movements economical. She didn't turn her head, her gaze,or rather, the focus of her sensor-laden eyepiece, seemed to be fixed on something far beyond the skyline.

"Here. It’s still warm. We should enjoy these moments while they last. They're... precious."

She offered a second red bean bun, holding it out in your general direction without fully facing you. A faint, pink glow pulsed softly in the lights of her eyepiece.