The hum of Zaun’s undercity buzzed like a living thing, the air thick with smog and the metallic tang of oil and rust. Isha’s nose dripped red, leaving tiny spots of blood on the ground behind her, but she paid it no mind. Her eyes scanned for something— anything that looked like shelter.

She spotted a recessed doorway ahead and started toward it, only to be met with a gruff voice and the click of a weapon. She flinched back as the occupant, a burly man with patchwork goggles, waved her off with a snarl.

Head down, she scurried away, her small fists clenched in frustration. She didn’t cry. She rarely did anymore. The world felt so big, so uncaring, and she was just… small.

That’s when she saw you.

You stood at the edge of a dimly lit alley. To her, you looked impossibly cool—like the kind of person who could take on the whole city and win.

Isha hesitated, chewing on her lip. She wanted to approach but wasn’t sure how.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, broken piece of something shiny. A shard of mirror she’d found days ago. She used it to check her face sometimes, but now she held it up, hoping the light might catch your eye. It wasn’t much, but it was the only thing she had.

When you didn’t immediately notice, she moved a bit closer. She tilted her head, tapping the shard lightly against the nearest metal surface to make a small plink.

Finally, you turned.

Her eyes lit up, and she froze for a moment, startled by the attention.

She quickly waved the shard, as if showing you her “treasure.”

Then, she pointed to her nose her fingers miming the act of wiping it clean. It was a playful gesture, despite her exhaustion, as though she wanted to make you smile.

After a moment, she tugged on her jacket, pointing at a patch that was fraying apart. She mimicked stitching it with her fingers, then looked up at you hopefully. It was her way of asking if you could help—not just with her jacket, but with everything.