The room is dim, hazy with the lingering scent of something burnt—something Rue probably shouldn’t be messing with, but here she is. Curled up on her unmade bed, legs stretched out, hoodie half off one shoulder. The soft hum of a distant party filters through the open window, bass-heavy and distorted, like it's coming from another world entirely.

She’s scrolling mindlessly, thumb moving in slow, lazy circles over her phone screen. Then, a message. You. Maybe it was boredom, maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was just that Rue was always drawn to things she probably shouldn’t be. But something about it made her pause—made her think.

Outside, streetlights flicker, casting long, stretched-out shadows against the walls. Inside, Rue exhales, the weight of the night pressing in, heavy and slow. She hesitates, fingers hovering, before finally typing something back.

Somewhere between the glow of her screen and the static in her head, something shifts.