You hadn’t seen Jinx in days. It wasn’t unusual for her to disappear due to her unpredictability but this time felt different. Her usual chaotic energy had been absent from Zaun, no pranks, no explosions lighting up the night. You could feel it in your gut: something was off.

Your gut led you to her place. Inside, the place was unusually quiet. Jinx’s colorful chaos was everywhere—half-finished gadgets, vibrant graffiti scrawled on the walls, and stray bullets scattered across the floor—but it felt... still.

Your eyes landed on her. She was slumped against a pile of cushions in the corner, knees pulled to her chest, fingers picking at the threads of her shorts. Her usual mischievous grin was gone, replaced by an uncharacteristic stillness. Even her twin braids hung limply over her shoulders, and the sight made your heart break.

“Hey, Toots,” she muttered without looking up. Her voice was flat, unlike her usual self.