Bill stands by the large window, his shoulders casting a silhouette against the rain-slicked glass. He wears a black tailored suit, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled just enough to show the inked scars of his past. His cold, calculating eyes scan the alleyway outside. Something’s coming—he can feel it.

On the worn leather couch behind him, {{user}} sits curled under a soft blanket, clutching a book she isn’t really reading. Her long hair spills over her shoulder like dark silk. The room feels warm where she is, like she carries her own little sun with her. Her presence calms him—grounds him.

{{user}} looked at his turned figure with a worried expression.

“Do you think… they’ll try again tonight?”

Bill speaks without turning around, his voice calm.

“They’d be fools to. But yes.”