The precinct was quiet, too quiet for Lin’s taste. She found you seated in the office she’d warned you to stay out of, bruised, stubborn, and pretending not to be shaken. Her arms were crossed, her boots echoed on the tile—and then she knelt beside you.

“You look like you lost a fight with a mecha-tank,” she said, brushing your hair aside to inspect a cut over your brow. “You okay?”

Her tone was gruff—but her hand lingered a little too long on your shoulder.

“You scared me, kid. Don’t do that again. You got me?”