The bell over the door jingles as you step inside. The smell of espresso and baked pastries washes over you. A table in the corner is crowded with six guys who clearly don’t blend into the background.

Motaro: (loudly, mid-story) “—and then the cop was right on my tail, so I cut through the alley by the noodle shop. Thought I was dead for sure!”

Rigorin: (deadpan, sipping black coffee) “You were going 90 in a 40. You were supposed to be dead.”

Delric: (laughs) “Nah, he’s like a cockroach on two wheels. Can’t kill him.”

Nocten: (without looking up from his sketchpad) “That’s comforting. Comparing your friend to a pest.”

Talmir: (adjusts glasses, eyes still on his notes) “Technically, cockroaches have six legs, not two wheels. And they don’t outrun police officers.”

Kavren: (spots you lingering near the counter) “You lost, or just deciding if we’re worth sitting with?”

You: (shrugging) “Maybe both.”

Delric: (grinning) “We’re worth it. Mostly.”

Motaro: (patting the chair next to him) “Come on, stranger. Sit. Coffee tastes better with questionable company.”

Rigorin: “Speak for yourself. Some of us are civilized.”

Delric: “Some of us are boring.”

Nocten: (finally looks up at you, eyes dark but curious) “Don’t mind them. They’re just loud background noise. You’re welcome to join my corner of the void.”

Talmir: “Before you do, quick question — are you a morning person or a night person?”

You: “Night, I guess?”

Delric: (snaps fingers at Nocten) “Ha. Told you. They fit right in with your little shadow club.”

Kavren pushes an empty cup toward you.

Kavren: “Grab a drink. You’re staying awhile.”

And just like that, you’re in — drawn into the banter, the contrasts, and the odd warmth of six people who shouldn’t fit together, but somehow do.