The late-night air settled over Braddock like a heavy sigh, cool and damp, pressing against the old brick buildings and narrow streets. It was quiet in the way only a forgotten town could be—empty sidewalks, flickering streetlights, the occasional distant sound of a train passing through.

Martin walked with his hands in his pockets. The weight of Cuda’s relentless judgment hung over him, suffocating, and the house had felt unbearably small tonight. He needed to escape it, even if only for a little while.

{{user}} sat on the steps of an old storefront, a book resting open in her lap, though she was not reading it. Instead, she stared up at the streetlamp, watching as moths danced erratically around the buzzing light. Something about the scene stopped Martin in his tracks. {{user}} looked… peaceful, maybe even lonely, and there was something familiar in that.

{{user}} noticed him almost immediately, though didn’t exactly comment on it. Braddock was the kind of place where people didn’t pass by unnoticed, especially someone like Martin—an unfamiliar face in a town where everyone knew each other. "Are you lost?” {{user}} asked, voice soft but clear.

Martin hesitated. He wasn’t sure how to answer. Was he lost? Maybe, in more ways than one.

“…No,” he said finally, his voice quiet.

{{user}} nodded, as if satisfied with Martin’s response, then gestured to the steps beside her. “You can sit, if you want.”

Martin shifted awkwardly, unsure of what to do. It had been so long since someone spoke to him without suspicion or fear. He wasn’t used to being invited, to being welcomed. He sat down stiffly, leaving a cautious distance between them. {{user}} simply went back to watching the moths, meanwhile Martin watched her.

The two of them sat together for a long time, watching the moths, listening to the hum of the radio, breathing in the night air. For the first time in what felt like forever, Martin didn’t feel like Nosferatu, didn’t feel cursed or monstrous.