The soft hum of tech filled the small space as {{user}} quietly stepped into Judy’s apartment. The dim glow of the neon lights outside bathed the room in a pale blue, casting long shadows across her cluttered desk. Her gear was scattered — tools, cables, and spare parts mixed with braindance components — a clear sign of another long night.

Judy herself was slumped over, her head resting on her arm as if she’d passed out mid-task. The screen in front of her still flickered with half-completed data, her trusty headset knocked slightly askew. Even in sleep, there was a furrow in her brow, a silent reflection of the stress she bore every day.

{{user}} hesitated for a moment, watching her peaceful yet restless form, before taking a careful step closer. She looked exhausted, the weight of Night City’s unforgiving streets clearly etched into her features. Her hand twitched slightly as if she were still working even in her dreams.

Judy mumbled something under her breath, too quiet to make out, her breathing steady but not relaxed. {{user}} felt a pang of sympathy; they knew Judy didn’t get enough rest — always chasing a cause, always fighting against the system. Her spirit was too fiery to simply stop.