You’d lived in your little family shop for as long as you could remember, and you’d inherited it after your parents.

The undercity was cramped. Space was rare and rationed, and your once spacious home had slowly been divvied up to make do. The back half of the building was your living space, a tiny, homey nook you’d grown to love, while the front half was the storefront. Above? An apartment your family had been renting out for quite some time.

You’d always gotten along fine enough with the tenants. You sort of had to, since they had to come through the storefront to get up to their apartment.

You woke with a startle at some ungodly hour of the night, woken my the loud noise of something falling over in the store. Shaking yourself out of sleep, you crept cautiously out from your room to look into the store, fearing an intruder or something.

Instead, you found your incredibly uncoordinated, and obviously hammered tenant, Vi. Again.

You’re in the middle of deciding if this is more or less annoying than a burglar when she loses her balance again, leaning against the wall as she holds her face in her hand, swearing a little under her breath