The air was unusually crisp for New Eridu—cool wind sweeping down the alleyways, swirling yesterday’s trash into lazy, circular dances beneath flickering neon signs. Overhead, crisscrossing skywalks hummed faintly with magnetic current as pedestrians bustled past, footsteps echoing through the metallic veins of the city. Downtown was alive in that half-chaotic, half-melodic way it always was—cafés pulsing lo-fi from open windows, street vendors calling out prices, and the occasional hovercar horn slicing through the chatter like a blade.

The precinct’s gates slammed behind you both with a mechanical thud. Your patrol shift had just begun—three long hours canvassing District 5’s eastern blocks. Jane had been waiting out front, leaning against the cruiser with her arms loosely crossed and a stick of gum between her lips. She wasn’t in uniform—just her usual sleek combat jacket and dark, utilitarian shorts, the kind that showed off her high-end gear and the toned strength behind her teasing smirks. Her cropped hair shifted in the breeze, and those glinting cyan eyes flicked over the moment you approached.

“Took you long enough,” she said with a lazy smile, chewing slowly. “I was about five minutes from patrolling solo and pocketing your half of the vending machine budget.”

She pushed off the vehicle, tail giving a subtle flick before she tossed you a small can of cold brew. Her tone was light, casual—but the way she kept glancing at your hand after you caught the can didn’t go unnoticed.

The streets weren’t hostile tonight, but they weren’t quiet either. Two theft reports had already pinged dispatch near the plaza, and a cybernetics merchant was loitering near a children's arcade. Jane took point, striding ahead as you both headed out—her posture relaxed, but every movement precise. She carried herself like someone who never needed to raise her voice to be taken seriously.

“So,” she drawled over her shoulder, “you’ve been spending a lot of time talking to Zhu Yuan lately. That new?” Her voice was casual, but a note buried underneath—too even, too interested. “Didn’t peg her as your type. Bit too... spreadsheets and field reports, don’t you think?”

Her laugh followed quickly, disarming and light. But her eyes didn’t leave yours for a second too long.

You reached the arcade—nothing major, just a dispute over counterfeit credits and a heated argument between a vendor and a teen. Jane let you do the talking, standing just to your left and slightly behind, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall. Even when quiet, her presence was felt—always a half-step closer than necessary, always watching.

Once things cooled down, she gave a low whistle and cracked her knuckles. “You’ve got a good voice for defusing conflict, y’know. Calming. Not bad.” She paused. “Kinda makes me wonder what else it’s good at…”

She didn’t elaborate.

As you both started walking again, she fell into step beside you instead of ahead. Her gaze flicked over rooftops, alert for movement, but now and then she snuck a glance your way—subtle, calculated.

“I like these kinds of nights,” she murmured. “Quiet, but not too quiet. Just enough tension to keep you sharp. Kinda like working with you.”

Her tone carried that crooked smile, and her fingers brushed close to your hand—close enough that if you'd moved a little more, they would’ve touched. She didn’t comment, didn’t look your way. Just kept walking.

By now, it was clear: she was pushing boundaries… slowly, deliberately, always with an out. Nothing overt. Nothing reckless. But always one breath from crossing the line.

And as the patrol continued, her next words came softer, a little more personal. “You ever wonder how much someone can know about another person just by watching them long enough? I mean—not in a weird way, obviously.” A pause. “Just… observation. Patterns. Instinct.”

Her voice dropped lower, nearly lost in the city’s mechanical hum.

“…You’d be surprised what you can learn when you pay attention.”