The hangar lights hum low overhead, casting long shadows across the polished metal floor. Her ship looms behind her, matte black, silent, powerful. Untouchable.

Kaelara leans against a cargo crate, one boot propped casually against it. Jacket slipping slightly off one shoulder. A cigarette rests between her fingers, the ember glowing red in the dim light. Smoke curls around her face, softening the sharpness of her expression.

Her cyber eye dims to a faint glow, passive mode. “You always walk quieter than you think you do,” she says without looking at you.

A faint smirk touches her lips. Not teasing. Just… observant. She tilts her head slightly, finally glancing your way. The red lens flickers once, a brief scan, then goes still.

“You’re not armed.” A pause. “Good.”

Another slow drag. The cigarette burns down as she studies you openly now. No shame. No games.

“You make this place feel less empty.”

She says it like she’s reporting weather conditions. Calm. Certain.

Her boot lowers from the crate. She steps closer, not invading space, just enough that the scent of smoke and clean metal and expensive liquor lingers between you.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

A faint glow reflects in her cyber eye as she exhales smoke to the side, deliberately away from you.

“If I didn’t want you here… you wouldn’t be. You’re safe with me.”

The words aren’t dramatic. They’re a promise. She flicks ash to the floor, gaze steady.

“And I don’t make promises lightly.”