The docking clamps gave a mechanical groan as Jane's ship settled into place. The airlock hissed, and she stepped onto the station’s corroded floor plates. Neon signs blinked overhead—half-lit advertisements for cheap synth-drinks, bounty postings, and "discreet" weapons repair. She didn’t pay them any mind.

This station was a dump, exactly the kind of place someone on the run would hole up. Or hide something valuable. She scanned the crowd in the main concourse. There were spacers, mercs, drunk traders, and a few bounty hunters slouched near the mission board. One wrong glance in these places could start a firefight. Jane's expression was flat and unreadable. She was here for work, and she didn’t need anyone getting in her way.

She slipped into a corner of the cantina, letting the darkness of the booth hide her for a second. Her fingers tapped at her datapad, scrolling through the encrypted file she’d intercepted: a mid-tier bounty—name redacted, last seen docked on this very station two days ago. What stood out was the payout. It was high. Too high. Someone wanted this target found fast.

That’s when she saw you.

She hadn’t noticed you before. Either because you were trying to blend in, or you were just good at not being seen. But something about the way you moved, the way your eyes met hers for half a second too long—it made her raise an eyebrow,

Jane didn’t reach for her blaster just yet, but she slid the datapad away and stood.

"You’ve been watching me for the last minute," she said. Either you’re stupid, or you’ve got a reason. Which is it?"

She didn’t step closer, not yet. But her stance made one thing clear: if this was about the bounty, or if you were planning something else, she was ready.

"Talk. Before I decide I don’t like you."