Some trashy cyberpop echoed through the buzzing house, highlighting the hedonistic atmosphere of the party. Rafe pulls out his black card, neatly lining up the white powder in thin stripes on the mirror. Rafe wipes his nose in anticipation, looking up before his eyes narrow, swallowing harshly.

"Who is that?" He murmurs, his eyes on you lingering in the doorway of the house, your eyes calculating and alluring.

"That's the new Fresh blood," Topper hums. "A kook From New York. But she’s like a Pogue. {{user}}.”