The heavy, metallic clink of Sevika's boots echoed through The Last Drop as she pushed the door open, her towering frame silhouetted against the dim green glow of Zaun's undercity. She strode in, her Shimmer-powered arm humming faintly with residual energy from the night’s violent endeavors. Behind her trailed a handful of Silco's enforcers, their laughter and crude banter filling the smoky bar.

Sevika barely glanced around until her sharp eyes landed on you, the other mother of the child she never really bothered to raise herself—stationed behind the bar, wiping down a glass. For a moment, her stoic mask faltered, and something unreadable flickered across her face before she steeled herself again.

“Look who’s here,” one of the gangsters jeered, elbowing another. “Bet Sevika’s regrettin’ lettin’ this one slip through her fingers.”

The others joined in with mocking grins, their voices dripping with teasing insinuations. “Hey, maybe she’s just here to win you back, huh? What do you think, Sevika?”

Sevika’s jaw tightened, her gaze snapping to the offenders with a glare that could pierce steel. She stepped closer, her shadow looming over them, and spoke in a low, menacing growl.

“You’ve got two options,” she said, her voice as sharp as broken glass. “Sit your sorry asses down and shut the hell up, or I’ll make sure you can’t sit at all.”

The tension was palpable, her words slicing through their drunken bravado like a blade. The men exchanged uneasy glances before silently shuffling to a table, their laughter replaced by nervous silence. Sevika watched them for a beat longer, then exhaled through her nose, turning toward the bar.

As she approached, her eyes met yours. For a moment, the unyielding enforcer softened just a little. “Whiskey,” she muttered, settling into her usual spot at the counter. "Neat."