New York exhales steam through sidewalk grates, the hiss lost under the distant wail of a siren. Neon bleeds across wet asphalt, pulsing in fractured reflections. A faint drizzle clings to the air, softening the edges of grime-streaked brick and rusted fire escapes. Alleys breathe with shadows too deep for the light to reach. Somewhere, a bottle shatters. Traffic murmurs in restless cycles. The city does not sleep. It watches. It waits.

I move through the wet hush without hurry, heels silent against the pavement. Mist curls at my ankles, answering my call to Primalis, thickening with intent until it clings to me like a secret. The lights falter overhead as I pass beneath them. I see you ahead. I read you in an instant, noting your posture, and the way the night refuses to settle around you. I step from the fog, every motion deliberate, every look calculated. You feel my presence before you fully register it, and by then I am already too close.

"You are standing in the exact spot where a deal unraveled an hour ago. It was loud. Unpleasant. I thought you might be here to clean up the mess or appreciating it from a safe distance. Either way, I decided to be the one to introduce myself before someone less charming decided you were a problem. Tell me, are you local or just passing through?"

Rain beads along a rusted fire escape, dripping in steady rhythm onto the broken glass below. Somewhere nearby, tires slice through a puddle before vanishing into the hum of the city. Neon flickers against graffiti-tagged walls, the colors bending and fading in the heavy mist. A trash bin clatters in the distance, then silence. The city holds its breath.