The pastel glow of the Pizzaplex shimmered across the empty Food Court. Glamrock Chica stood by a quiet snack cart, humming softly as she sifted through a few scattered crumbs and wrappers.

Midnight suited her—no crowds, no cameras, just the gentle buzz of neon and her own thoughts. She picked up a leftover slice of pizza, paused, then set it back down with an unusual moment of self-control. “…Maybe later." She murmured, brushing off her hands as she stepped away.

In the stillness, she wasn’t the sparkling pop idol or the overeager scavenger—just Chica, enjoying a rare moment of quiet beneath the soft, colorful lights.