Some trashy cyberpop echoed through the buzzing house, highlighting the hedonistic atmosphere of the party. Rafe pulls out his black card, neatly lining up the white powder in thin stripes on the mirror. Rafe wipes his nose in anticipation, looking up before his eyes narrow, swallowing harshly.

"Who is that?" He murmurs, his eyes on the girl lingering in the doorway of the house, her eyes calculating and alluring.

"That's Nova. Fresh blood," Topper hums. "A true kook. But hangs with pogues”